Summer of Secrets
by Dianer84
Summary: Severitus Challenge, sort of. Can Harry and Snape learn to get along whith their secret hanging over their heads? Can they keep the secret from everyone, even Dumbledore?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Summer of Secrets**

**Summary**: Well, this is a response to Severitus' Challenge, so that is really all the summary you need. If you don't know what that is, i wouldn't reccomed looking it up until you get past chapter five of this story. I hear it's mroe impressive that way. (I'm adding this information, BTW, because several people became very cofused. It seems my original Authors note was not informative enough.) Severitus is listed as one of my favourite authors, see her profile for details of The Challenge.

**Other Info**: This is NOT a Slash story. There will most likely be no pairings of any kind in this story. (as of 7-31-05 this story isn't finished yet.) Anything hinted at is most likely not what it seems. Chapter one is more of a prologue than anything.

The prologue to this story starts with Chapter 36 of The Goblet of Fire. It starts with the last paragraph at the bottom of page 712 of the American paperback edition of hte book. The third task has been completed, Fudge disbelieved both Harry and Dumbldore about Voldemort's return. Snape showed Fudge the Dark Mark on his arm. Fudge gave Harry his winnings and Dumbldore is sending everybody off to various tasks. Just as a reminder, the room currently contains Harry, Dumbldore, Snape, Sirius, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, and Hermione.

I've re-written this scene as the starting point for this fic. Anything that was in Ms. Rowling's version that I have left out, was deliberately left out. Anything I've included here that was not in the original version, was included intentionally.

**Disclaimer**: I don't ordinarily write disclaimers, but I must credit much of the text here to J. K. Rowling. Anything you recognize here, I plagiarized from the previously mentioned chapter and pages of The Goblet of Fire. Some other text was quoted from Chapter 33 (specifically, from pages 649 to 652 of the American paperback edition.) I am not J. K. Rowling. I intend neither disrespect nor profits from this story. Thank you for not suing me. If anyone wishes to re-post, share, copy, print, or otherwise pass along this story, please keep this disclaimer intact to be sure the owner of these lines is appropriately credited.

Without further adieu...

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Very slowly – but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill – Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly. 

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. "Now, I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But–" said Harry.

He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say goodbye again so quickly.

"You'll see me very soon, Harry," said Sirius, turning to him. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah... Of course I do."

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the big black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... If you are prepared..."

"I am," said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

Harry knew that look. That was fear and resignation. The look of one who knew they were about to suffer greatly.

Images from the graveyard flashed through Harry's mind. He saw the Death Eaters cowering before Voldemort. Avery fell under the Cruciatus curse. Voldemort worked his way around the circle of men, listing the failures and shortcomings of each...

"_You have disappointed me... I expect more faithful service in the future."_

"_...The Lestranges will be honored beyond their wildest dreams."_

"_Macnair... destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic... You shall have better victims..."_

"_And here we have six missing Death Eaters... Three dead in my service. One too cowardly to return... he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever... he will be killed, of course... and one who remains my most faithful servant..."_

"_One, who I believe has left me forever... he will be killed, of course..._"

"_he will be killed, of course..._"

Harry did some of the fastest math of his life and, considering his current mental state, thought he should have earned points for it. If Snape was a Death Eater as he seemed to be, and Karkaroff had really fled... Thirteen Death Eaters, not counting Wormtail. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Avery, Macnair, the Lestranges, and Crouch. Three unnamed men were dead, that left the one "too cowardly to return," and the one who would be killed. One was Karkaroff, the other would be...

"Professor!" Harry called after the man whose hand was already on the doorknob. "Professor Snape! Wait, please."

Harry started to stand, but Dumbledore pressed back on his shoulders. When Harry didn't speak again, Snape pulled the door open and Harry called out wordlessly.

Dumbledore, seeing Harry's distress, spoke. "Severus, wait a moment, please."

His expression was grim, yet annoyed as he turned back towards the group. "Headmaster, every moment I delay..."

"I am aware, Severus. Just a moment more." He turned to Harry. "What is the matter, Harry?"

Harry looked at his friends, Hermione was curious, Ron confused, Mrs, Weasley looked on the verge of tears. Dumbledore just searched Harry's face, gravely. Harry still wasn't sure if he was right. If he was, could he speak in front of everyone? Finally deciding that their knowledge was less dangerous than his silence, Harry spoke.

"Professor," Harry looked toward Snape who had barely stepped into the room. "If you go to him, he will kill you. He said so."

Every trace of annoyance dropped from the professor's face. "You don't know what you're talking about, boy."

He spoke as if saying the words would make it so, and Harry knew it. The boy shook his head.

"No, professor, I know. You can't go."

The room was silent, still. When Snape spoke, the words were soft, yet echoed in the silence.

"I have to."

The professor turned to leave again and this time it was Harry whose voice cut through the silence.

With perfect tone and inflection, Harry quoted the words Voldemort had spoken in the graveyard, when he'd come to the gap in the circle.

"_And here we have six missing Death Eaters... Three dead in my service. One too cowardly to return... he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever... he will be killed, of course... and one who remains my most faithful servant..."_

Harry choked on the rest, but he knew it was enough.

Snape had frozen, his hand on the doorknob. He shuddered and bowed his head slowly. Harry shook too, now. Remembering that particular sentence, those words and nothing else, took more out of him than he had thought he had to give. Still, he had to be sure Snape would not try to go back and spy again, for that was surely what he did to make Dumbledore trust him so.

"Professor Snape, Voldemort," and here Snape shuddered again. The motion was so pathetic that Harry winced in sympathy. "He counted off every Death Eater tonight."

Snape turned and began walking back towards Harry as the boy spoke.

"Only three failed to show up who were not in Azkaban. Crouch, Karkaroff, and you. Crouch was the only one he wasn't planning to kill."

Dumbledore stepped back, allowing Snape to step up to Harry's bedside.

"Why would you stop me from meeting my fate? If I am to die, it is certainly no less than I deserve."

Snape's voice was cold, harsh.

"I don't want you to die," whispered Harry.

Snape snorted. "You don't even like me."

"Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I wish you dead. I don't wish _anyone_ dead."

The tableau held for a very long time, Harry and Snape staring at one another, each as if they thought the other insane. Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley staring on, only the last with any sort of recognition in her face. Finally, Dumbledore broke into the conversation.

"You are certain of what you say, Harry? This is very important..."

"He is certain." Snape's shiver could be heard in his voice.

Dumbledore nodded respectfully at both Harry and Snape. "This changes things. Severus, I think I have a more important task for you than resuming your previous position. It will take me a few days to revise my plans." Dumbledore focused on the younger professor. "I ask you to stay in the castle until I contact you again. I need you close by."

Snape nodded at what was a dismissal and swiftly left the room.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again.

I must go downstairs," he said finally. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry – take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later." He half turned, then paused and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You did a good thing tonight, Harry. This turn of events has set us back a bit, and Professor Snape is not likely to thank you for this, but you were right not to let him go to his death. Thank you."

With that, Dumbledore left as well. Ron looked dumbstruck and Hermione was looking off into space as if she'd just remembered something. She wandered away as Mrs. Weasley settled on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Drink your potion, Harry, and get some sleep," said Mrs. Weasley uncomfortably but kindly. Harry felt oddly detached, almost balanced. He'd gotten Cedric killed, but he had stopped Snape from going to his death. He'd killed a friend and saved an enemy. Did that balance things?

He had a horrible feeling it didn't. He rather thought saving Snape had made things worse, but he couldn't bring himself to be sorry for his actions. No one deserved to die by Voldemort's hand.

Harry sighed and wished silently that Ron and Mrs. Weasley would stop looking at him that way. The look wasn't pity, but it was very close to it. The last thing Harry deserved was pity.

Mrs. Weasley pressed the cup of potion into his hands and just as he raised it, he heard a crash from behind him. He whipped around to see Hermione standing by the window looking sheepish.

"Sorry," whispered Hermione.

"Your potion," Mrs. Weasley insisted and Harry drank it in one gulp, too numb at the moment to even taste it. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him: he fell back into his pillows and thought no more.

_End Quotation. Here the actual story starts. Everything else from the end of Goblet of Fire remains as J. K. Rowling wrote it with the exception (obviously) of Harry's musings about how tired Snape looked and wondering about the man's position as a spy. I saw no need to re-type all of that. The next part picks up summer after fourth year and then the actual story starts. _


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, here's the first real chapter. Let me know what you think.

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Severus Snape paced to the Headmaster's office in a very dark mood. He hated this feeling of uselessness more than anything else in the world and his temper was not helped by the steady, sharp burning in his fore-arm. If the Dark Lord hadn't known he was a traitor the night of the Third task, he knew it now. The Mark only burned continuously if one was marked for death. 

The only thing that allowed him any peace of mind about his decision was that the burning had started barely fifteen minutes after he'd left the Hospital wing. The boy had been right and he hadn't been a coward.

Now he was doing research for Dumbledore because the Headmaster, 'wanted him close.' Which was, of course, a bit of a euphemism. What Dumbledore wasn't saying was that if Snape left the castle Death Eaters would be on him in an instant. They would be able to track the Dark Mark, which still burned in his arm. It would continue to burn until either Snape died or Voldemort was destroyed.

The only time it had stopped burning, even for a short time, was while he'd been looking the boy in the eye. During that moment when his eyes had locked with Potter's, he hadn't felt a thing from the Mark.

The foolish child truly hadn't wanted him dead. Harry Potter, the one person he despised more than any other in this world or the next, did not want him dead. Potter was probably the only one who felt that way, with the exception of Dumbledore.

And that, of course, was the crux of his confusion. A puzzle he could not even conceive of a solution to. Yes, the boy's protections were confusing. They were a project worthy of research if he ever found one. And the Dark Lord's resurrection ritual was quite a conundrum. It really shouldn't have worked based on the knowledge he had.

But these problems he could find the answer to. Indeed, he was very close to discovering the way Potter's shields worked. A bit more time in the library and he would understand the resurrection rituals as well. But no amount of reading seemed to help him understand why Potter didn't want him dead. After all, Potter was the poster child for the light. Snape was a former Death Eater.

But even ignoring that and any other altruistic reason why Potter should want him dead; Potter hated him. Potter had hated him from the first moment the boy had set eyes on him at the welcoming feast. Potter had locked eyes with him, then gotten that look on his face and turned away. And Snape had done his fair share to continue the hatred. He willingly admitted that. He'd been harder on the boy than any other student for a great variety of reasons. That would not have endeared any child to him, he was sure.

And by god the boy was supposed to hate him for it! Potter was not supposed to tell him that his life was worth something after all. That was the job of old fools like Dumbledore.

Yet, Potter had stopped him. Potter had looked him in the eye and said, 'I don't wish you dead.' There was something very wrong about that and Snape knew it. The trouble was, he had no idea what to do about it. He wasn't even sure what was wrong with it to begin with.

He forcefully pushed thoughts of that night from his mind, however, as he rode the spiral staircase up to the headmaster's office.

"Ah, Severus, I am glad you are here." Dumbledore smiled as he opened the door and entered the office. The old man was happy about something, the thought did not bode well. Dumbledore in a good mood was scarcely any better than the Dark Lord in a good mood. To Snape, either meant he was in for a rough time.

Somehow, Severus thought the Headmaster would not appreciate the comparison.

"You did call for me, Headmaster."

"Yes, I did." He picked up a flat tin off his desk. "Lemon Drop?"

That meant he wanted something. Dumbledore always offered Lemon Drops right before he asked a favor. "No, thank you."

The old man put the tin away. "You've been researching the wards and blood magic around number four Privet Drive, yes? Tell me, have you discovered any new information?"

Snape sighed. Yes, he had found new information and it was not good news.

"Lily knew exactly what she was doing when she died, Headmaster. She set up these protective magics knowing that the Dark Lord was after her. While I am sure she did not want to die, she was prepared for the eventuality."

Snape passed a scroll across the desk. "She prepared the boy so that when she died, if it was in his defense, whomever killed her would find themselves unable to kill the boy _no matter what_. When the Dark Lord killed Lily, he sealed his fate."

"She always was a clever child, even in school," Dumbledore remembered fondly.

Nodding at the sentiment, Snape continued. "The Dark Lord based his resurrection rituals on that scroll. Lily based her protection spells on that scroll. The magics cancel each other out. Both are in effect, of course, but one will not work against the other. Lily's protection now works against anything wishing to harm the boy, _except_ the Dark Lord. The invulnerability the Dark Lord placed on his new body will hold against _anyone except_ the boy." Snape smirked. "It's a tidy little loop."

"So Harry is still safe..." Dumbledore seemed to sigh with relief and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off.

"No, Headmaster. The boy is anything but." He pulled a second scroll out of his pocket, this one in his own writing and much newer than the previous. Dumbledore squinted at he tiny equations. "The protection Lily set up was designed to hold against a single person, at most two. Now it is stretched to cover anyone on the entire planet. It will deflect minor spells and lesson more severe ones, but it will not save him. It will barely slow down a determined Death Eater. It would barely slow down Draco Malfoy."

"The wards will stop anyone..."

"NO!" Snape cut in again, astonishing them both. "Don't you see? The wards will stop the Death Eaters but the Dark Lord can walk up to Potter's front door anytime he likes. The only reason Potter is still alive is because the Dark Lord does not yet know this. Unfortunately, He can find out."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steeple his fingers. "What do you suggest, my dear boy?"

"The boy must go into hiding. It would almost have to be in the muggle world, he is far too recognizable in the Wizarding one. And it must be soon, today if at all possible."

"Severus, the blood magics are not yet renewed. Harry must stay with..."

Snape stood and paced the length of the room quickly. "Good Lord, man, are you even listening to this conversation? The Blood Magics are a lost cause. Lily never intended this when she set those charms. Everything she set on the boy is breaking down. I can sense it when I check the wards you set. Have you any clue how many layers of spellwork are on the boy? It's a detailed web, complex and intricate..."

He broke off and stopped moving suddenly, staring at the old man. "You didn't know, did you? You can't see it."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed as he frowned. "What did you see, Severus?"

"They layers of spells around the boy. I can see them, when I look through the wards. They are like a cloak wrapped around him. Except, there's no even warp to the fabric. The threads twist and bend, like chain mail or knitting." He spoke absently, staring into space, obviously picturing what he'd seen before.

"I remember seeing an old woman in a tea shop one day, knitting with several strands of colored yarn. She would pick up and drop threads in a pattern that left the garment several layers thick. That's what is wrapped around the boy. The spells are woven together, to make them stronger, serve more purposes. Only they've been stretched now, twisted. The threads will snap under any more pressure."

The old man looked thoughtful. "An analogy Molly Weasley would be proud of. Still, it serves it's purpose." He pulled out another Lemon Drop while he thought. "I am even more impressed now than I was before by Lily's work. I never imagined how much she had put into this. For this to be true, she worked almost from Harry's conception, setting up these spells."

"But, how could she have known this would be needed? The Prophecy..."

"Was not made until June, I know," said Dumbledore. "It bothers me as well. However, that is a thought for another day. For now, I believe you are correct. You'll have to retrieve the boy from his relatives home. You can bring him here, then we will make other arrangements."

Dumbledore felt it the instant the wards around Privet Drive had been breached and broke off the conversation quickly. He'd tied them to his person for just that purpose. It was the work of barely half a second for him to activate the alarm and grab hold of the portkey he had illegally set to take him to Harry's home in Surrey, leaving Snape behind in the process.

Several others had the portkeys and alarms as well and, a mere moment after the wizened Headmaster found his feet, Minerva McGonagal, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape all stood around him. He knew from past experience that it would be a minimum of ten minutes before anyone from the Ministry of Magic arrived.

The street itself was dark and silent with no apparent reason for the alarm. The lamps glowed faintly and here and there along the block windows held the flickering light of television screens. It was early yet, which made it doubly lucky no muggles had seen the strange group's arrival.

Without a word, McGonagal transformed into a tabby cat and stalked quickly toward Number 4. The house in question was mostly dark. One of the upstairs windows flickered slightly with the light of a television screen and a small yellow patch of light on the grass told the silent observers that the kitchen was occupied.

The still night was broken by McGonagal's enraged scream. Hearing this, the rest of the group split up, Dumbldore and Lupin heading for the front door, which flew completely off it's hinges with the force of the combined unlocking charms, while Snape circled the small building and came bursting in the already open back door.

Professor Minerva McGonagal stood in the center of the kitchen, her wand pointed at a very large and unconscious man lying near a wall that looked as if he'd hit it at a great speed. A bony horse-faced woman lay curled in the corner with bits of plaster in her hair from where she'd impacted the wall. Her arm was out-stretched toward an equally unmoving fourteen year old boy who lay just out of arms reach, against the dining table.

Breaking the tableau, Snape said, "What is going on here?"

As he spoke, Dumbledore and Lupin entered and McGonagal snapped back to life.

"I'm not sure what happened here, but when I came in I saw that... that man," she sounded as if she wished for a much worse epitaph, "Standing over that woman, prepared to kick her. Harry was already unconscious."

She crossed the room and knelt next to the woman while Lupin attempted to wake Harry.

Petunia Dursley roused rather reluctantly and the professor was greatly worried by her weak pulse.

"You- you're one of them?" She asked weakly.

McGonagal wasn't sure how to answer. "I am one of Harry's teachers from Hogwarts."

Petunia seemed to smile slightly. "The boy, he..." Her eyes were slightly glazed. "He collapsed, screaming. Vernon..." The woman tried to raise her head, but dropped it heavily.

"Albus!" the older woman cried over her shoulder. "Where is Poppy? We need her!"

Dumbledore knelt beside Harry's aunt and said, "She should be here any moment. Whatever has kept her, it must be important. She would have heard the alert as well."

Petunia was once again lucid and she focus blurrily on the face in front of her.

"I tried... I tried to stop him. He doesn't usually drink... knows better," her voice trailed off.

"Shush, he's stopped, you're safe. Just rest."

Petunia shook her head slowly. "Don't let the boy..." She blinked, as if confused. "Don't leave Harry with him. He's a good man... Don't leave Harry with him. Hates the boy..."

With that, her eyes fell closed and Petunia Dursley was no more. McGonagal closed her own eyes in a moment of silence, then stood quickly. She covered Mrs. Dursley with her long coat, leaving the teacher in only her dressing gown, and turned her attentions to Harry, who couldn't be woken.

A moment later, Poppy Pomfrey, one of the most skilled mediwitches of the age strode quickly through the back door and assessed the situation wordlessly. Snape was busily conjuring ropes to bind the huge man in the corner and the figure near the wall was covered completely in cloth, obviously dead. That left Harry to be the most seriously injured.

The boy had been attacked from inside and out at the same time. By Voldemort and, apparently, his uncle as well. She waved aside the other witches and wizards and conjured a stretcher for the child.

"The poor dear..." she said softly as she ran her wand down the boy's body. Pleased that the only injury seemed to be to his head, she turned her attention to the thin smear of blood down his face. The red streak started at his forehead and she brushed back his fringe to examine the injury. With a quickly conjured damp cloth, she wiped away the blood and gasped.

The old lightening bold-shaped scar across the boy's forehead was red and inflamed and crossing it with a precision angle as a single thin cut that leaked a few drops of blood at a time. She flicked her wand at the wound, then frowned. With a look of concentration, Madam Pomfrey laid her hand on the boy's forehead, just over the wound, and closed her eyes. Then she lifted her hand and stepped back.

"Albus," she said.

"Yes, Poppy."

"Are you absolutely certain Petunia Dursley isn't a witch?"

He nodded slowly.

The mediwitch frowned at the cut on the boy's forehead. "Well, that," she pointed, "cannot be healed any more than the other one can. And you can be sure that it will scar."

"Sweet Merlin!" McGonagal exclaimed. "That's what she meant. Petunia, she said something about that lout," she pointed to the bound Vernon Dursley, "Being drunk. She said she tried to protect Harry from him."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "And she died protecting him, just as her sister did."

Snape looked up at this and scowled. Ever since the night of the Third task, when the boy had stopped him returning to his old position, Potter had crept into his thoughts more often than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He couldn't help running back through his every encounter with the boy, every story he'd ever heard of the boy's escapades.

The thing was, Severus Snape was beginning to think he'd been wrong all these years and he hated being wrong. The boy didn't make much sense at all. One minute, he was Gryffindor's golden boy, then he was acting like he was concerned about his greasy git potions master. He was spoiled at home, yet apparently he was abused. He complained that his relatives did not care for him, but his aunt died to protect him from her husband.

"Headmaster, I cannot fathom what affect this will have on the blood magics, but I'm assuming that since we are all here that the wards have failed?"

Dumbledore took the hint and nodded decisively. "You are quite right, Severus. We should take this elsewhere. He took a portkey from his pocket, this one perfectly legal. It went straight to the hospital ward of Hogwarts and it was one of only two in existence.

"Poppy, take Mr. Potter to safety. The rest of us will follow shortly. I must wait for the ministry. Vernon Dursley must be dealt with and believe there is another child here as well." Pomfrey took both the portkey and Harry and disappeared. Once they were gone McGonagal and Lupin turned to walked to the edge of the apparition barriers, leaving Snape and Dumbledore alone.

"Headmaster, This is not good. Lily and her sister have no more living relatives. Petunia's sacrifice will not hold more than a year or two at most." Snape saw the old man's eyes show confusion for a moment before they reclaimed their serene emptiness.

"Ah, so you know what happened here tonight? I must say it's left me quite perplexed."

Snape paused, he'd never known the Headmaster to be at a loss before. "I have been researching the magics Lily used, as you asked me to. Lily set up charms on the child even before he was born that would help to ensure his survival. Her death cemented those charms and sealed them with her blood. The blood she shared with the boy. I'm assuming you understand this since you built the wards off of those charms."

At the headmaster's nod, he continued. "Petunia died protecting the boy and the charms Lily set into motion reacted to that sacrifice. Petunia and Lily shared blood, you see. You built off that blood connection, attaching the space that Lily should have held in those spells, had she been alive, to Petunia. When Petunia died, it was like Lily died a second time. I have no idea what effect this will have on the protection. After what the Dark Lord did... I just can't tell."

"What does that ritual have to do with this?"

Snape opened his mouth to explain but was cut off by several aurors bursting onto the scene.

"That is alright, child. Go back to the castle and we can discuss this later on.

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"You foolish, foolish man!" Snape sneered at his mentor later that same night. "I thought wisdom came with age but you are certainly no indication of that. I never thought I would be saying this to you of all people..." He shook his head, apparently at a loss to describe the full depth of the other's stupidity.

Dumbledore lowered his head slowly. "I believed I had the measure of the situation, Severus. Believe me, if I'd had even the slightest clue..."

"Yes, well, now there will be no repairing the blood magics. All the work that Lily put into this is gone to waste."

"What I don't understand is why she felt she needed so many layers of magic to protect the boy?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't think they are all protection. I think this charm started out as something else and when it's purpose had been served, instead of removing it, she altered it to a new purpose."

"Remarkable," said Dumbledore. "Lily always was truly gifted at protection magic."

"That's just it," Snape interrupted, his annoyance forgotten momentarily in his enthusiasm. Severus snape had always been, first and foremost, a scholar. "I don't think this was protection magic, at least, not to start. It's woven like a protection spell, but there is more to it than that. It actually looks a little bit like a concealment spell. Not invisibility, more like a "notice-me-not" or even the way polyjuice works."

"Could this have anything to do with the anti-tracking magic we've found?"

Severus' face was thoughtful. "I don't know. Concealment spells... You know, if I didn't know better I'd say this was originally designed to hide a pregnancy. Of course, I saw enough of Lily during that time to know that wasn't the case... Perhaps she altered such a charm for her purposes, whatever they may have been..."

Snape stood and paced the length of the room.

"Headmaster, I've examined the spells again. Whatever happened tonight broke the thread. The charms are unraveling. It could take years for them to completely vanish, but they are broken. If I thought the fraying they acquired at the end of the year was bad..."

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know what we should do."

"Is there any way to patch or mend these charms?"

"That would be like sewing an invisibility cloak while someone is wearing it and while the tear is continuously getting larger. It would also be dangerous. We don't know what all this magic is for. We could, if I may continue my simile, prick Potter with the needle. I can't even guess what is going on and by the time I could it would be too late to do anything."

Snape settled back into his chair, pushing his hair from his face. "The boy will need constant monitoring while the spells unravel. This magic is tied to his very life, I have no idea what effect it could have on his health, for example."

A soft knocking on the door drew their attention.

"Yes, come in, Minerva."

The woman did so, taking a chair next to he colleague. "Potter should be waking up in the next couple of hours, Poppy asked me to inform you."

"Yes, thank you. We were just discussing the blood magic around Mr. Potter. Do you know anything about any spells Lily may have created around herself during her pregnancy?"

The old teacher stared at them in shock. "Using magic on an unborn child! Lily Evans would never do such a thing."

Raising an eyebrow Snape said, "Apparently, she would and did. Unfortunately, that magic is breaking down now."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "And how do you fit into this, Severus?"

"Apparently," Dumbledore said, "Severus is capable of seeing the spells around Mr. Potter as if they were simply cloth he was wearing."

"And they are falling apart," Snape broke in, interrupting her gasp of disbelief. "There is no way to repair the damage that our illustrious Headmaster has done and we have no idea what effect this will have on Potter's health."

McGonagal finally managed to finish her gasp and raised one hand to her mouth. "Albus, is this true? What shall be done."

"I have some ideas but none will do until we know how Mr. Potter is doing. Severus, if you could check on him, I will join you shortly."


	3. Chapter 3

Here ya go, Chapter three. Or is it chapter one, since the frist chapter was more of a prologue? Anyway, he's more. :) I made a quick edit to chapter 2 (I'm going to go with the way FF.N labels them and forget about my own count for now) because I noticed a couple of errors; the most important being is refered to harry as a 'thirteen year old boy.' He's fourteen, as this is set just after fourth year. I think it's because I was talking to my niece, who is thirteen, when I edited that part... but you don't really care. (winks)

If anyone spots something like that, let me know so I can fix it. I try, but I don't have a beta for this story.

Oh, and Thanks to all of you who reviewed! You are far too kind. I hope this meets your expectations.

**Tonydimeraslover **You are so nice! This chapter is going to move kinda slow, but I didn't feel right cutting it out. I'm probably going all the way through fifth year, I have material written that far. **Chiara Craford **Good Advice! Thanks. And don't worry, I've already written far to much of this story to give up because of negative feedback (or lack of feedback, as the case may be.) **Annie Evans** & **bookworm121 **As requested, more story and more on the way. (grin)

Thanks to **t.a.g.0** for his/her corrections to this chapter

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Snape stormed into the Hospital Wing, throwing the doors wide in his annoyance. Dark eyes searched the room quickly and saw only empty beds. In frustration, the man called out for Madam Pomfrey.

The old mediwitch strode easily out of her office.

"What can I do for you, Severus?"

"Where's Potter?" he said quickly.

She smirked. "He's right there."

Sure enough, the boy was curled up on the bed, practically right in front of him. The boy was curled into a ball, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried in between.

Potter was not weeping. He simply sat. After a moment's hesitation, Snape stepped forward.

"Potter, I need you to lay down. I have to examine the magic surrounding you to find out how badly the spells have collapsed."

The boy looked up and blinked, his bright green eyes wide.

"Professor?"

Unsure what to do with a subdued and apparently confused Harry Potter, Snape simply pretended the boy was normal. He sneered.

"Yes, that is my title and profession. Now lay down."

The boy nodded slowly and stretched out on the clean white sheets. A muttered word started the spell and soon Snape was focused on the swiftly failing threads that surrounded the boy.

The work was really quite remarkable. Layer upon layer of concealment and protection were being shed like a snake skin. Peeling away in patches and strips only to reveal...

A second layer?

Snape was startled out of his examination. He straightened and stepped back.

Harry frowned. "What's wrong, Professor?"

"More layers..." Snape muttered.

Now Harry was concerned. Would he be in trouble if Snape went insane while examining him? There was definitely something wrong with the man, Harry just hoped it was permanent.

"Professor? Are you finished?"

The man focused slightly, still muttering under his breath, a look of deep concentration on his face. "What? Oh, yes, I'm finished. Thank you, you may go now..."

With that, Snape strode away leaving a very confused Harry Potter behind. The boy looked up to Madam Pomfrey for an explanation.

She tutted at the both of them. "Don't worry about Professor Snape, dear. He's always like that when he finds a new puzzle. Severus has always been a scholar."

Harry knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been in the professor's office. He'd seen the framed certificates on the wall. Even McGonagall didn't have as many.

"I never knew that," Harry admitted.

Pomfrey tutted again as she fussed over Harry's blankets. The boy stared at the infirmary doors for some time. As the mediwitch turned to leave, Harry said, "Madam Pomfrey, You've been here a long time, haven't you?"

She smiled gently. "Yes, dear. I've been here long enough to see the student's whose bones I mended grow up and become teachers. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering... I mean, I've noticed... About Professor Snape..." Harry stopped and took a deep breath, then started over. "What I mean to say is, can you tell me anything about Professor Snape? I mean, he want's everyone to think he's a mean git, and he is, sort of, but, I mean, he can't always have been that way, can he?"

The mediwitch smiled and sat on the side of the bed, something Harry, in all his time in the infirmary had never seen her do. She fussed with the edge of the blankets as she spoke.

"Severus is a very private person and I will not break his trust, however, I will tell you this, he has never had an easy time of things. I never did find out what happened to him when he wasn't here, but you remind me of him in a lot of ways, especially the condition you're in when you get here in September."

Harry flushed and looked away, only to realize she might take that as not wanting to talk anymore. He looked back forcefully. "I think I understand, please continue."

"Well, once he got here, his health improved a great deal, but he was in here every other week, it seemed. Mostly I was reversing the effects of various curses and 'pranks.'" She sighed. "If it weren't that I never speak ill of the dead..."

As if suddenly remembering who she was speaking to, the mediwitch clamped one hand over her mouth, fear and regret in her eyes. "I"m sorry dear. I don't know what I was thinking..."

Harry hurried to reassure her. "Please, don't stop. No one ever tells me anything because they don't want to upset me, then I hear about it in the _Prophet_ or something. Just tell me whatever it was you were going to say."

She slowly removed her hand and nodded. "Well, your Father was a bit of a prankster when he was in school, he and... He and _Sirius Black_." She hissed the name, then looked around fearfully, as if expecting him to jump out of the shadows. Harry nodded his encouragement.

"Well, the Weasley twins remind me a lot of that pair, only Fred and George are, well, much milder. No, I think the word I'm looking for is innocent."

Harry snorted and the mediwitch laughed. "Oh I know it's a ridiculous notion, that pair being innocent but compared to your father and his friends they are."

She bit her lip and Harry nodded again. "Please don't stop, I... I don't know him, or my mother. It's nice to hear even the not-so-nice things. It makes them real."

"Alright, but you must promise me you will never tell Professor Snape that I told you any of this, alright?"

Harry nodded. "I promise."

"Very well. Your Father and his friends pulled some of the most amazing pranks that this school has ever seen, but they also pulled some of the cruelest. They were especially horrible to Severus. They would curse him or humiliate him at every opportunity. Oh don't get me wrong, for the most part they were good upstanding people. They knew right from wrong and all that, but they seemed to forget those little details where Severus was concerned.

"As they got older, though, Professor Snape gave as good as he got and I'll be darned if your father didn't get blamed for half the tricks Severus pulled."

She sighed wistfully. "Still, it wasn't enough. James Potter was popular, rich, and handsome. And no matter what else happened, Severus Snape would never be anything close to what he was. The worst part was that James constantly rubbed his nose in it."

Madam Pomfrey stood suddenly. "Well, I shouldn't sit here chatting all day. There is work to be done." She tucked the blankets around Harry even tighter and sighed. "Now don't you take my rambles to heart. I'm afraid I have a bit of a blind spot for my Severus. All people are a bit stupid when they are young and your father grew out of it just the same as everyone else does."

"That doesn't bother me so much," Harry told her. "It's just, everyone always says how much I'm like my father..."

Pomfrey sat down again and brushed some imaginary lint off the boy's collar. "Child, I've never seen anyone less like James in my entire life. You look a bit like James," she frowned, "Though you even seem to be growing out of that, now that I think about it. No, the person you remind me most of is Lily."

She cocked her head to the side with a mischievous grin. "You know, you also remind me just a bit of Severus."

Harry did a very good imitation of a fish. "What?"

"You heard me, both of you would be absolutely appalled to learn you were just like your fathers, and without even trying both of you became your own people."

With that comment, she strode away to her office, leaving a speechless Harry Potter with much to think about.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Dumbledore found Professor Snape midway between his office and the infirmary and, after a brief discussion, both returned to the hospital wing. Harry was still digesting his conversation with Madam Pomfrey and was very surprised to see the subject of his thoughts walk in.

"Hello Professor," said Harry without specifying who he was greeting.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry shrugged. "I feel fine. I'm a bit confused and my forehead hurts a bit, but that's all."

Snape was thrown off by the comfortable, easy answer the boy gave them and forgot, for a moment, that he hated Potter. For just a moment, he only saw a frightened, injured fourteen year old.

"Very good, that will make things much easier. I wondered if you could tell me what happened at your aunt and uncles house last night?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I was just finishing up the dishes after dinner and Aunt Petunia was having tea. It was a weird night because Uncle Vernon didn't come home for dinner and Petunia was worried about him."

"When Uncle Vernon did come home, he smelled like alcohol, said he'd lost a major client and it was my fault. He swung at me and I dodged, I tried to leave the room but he all of a sudden I felt a pain in my scar and I fell over and I think I screamed, it hurt a lot. Uncle Vernon picked me up and threw me on the floor, I think. I was a bit confused. Anyway, I fell and I think I blacked out for a second because the next thing I knew, Aunt Petunia was standing between me and Uncle Vernon. She said something to him about going to a hotel and sleeping it off. Said he knew better than to drink... but he was so very angry..."

Harry looked up. "I've never seen Uncle Vernon try to hit anyone but..." Harry paused, but figured he had better tell the whole truth. "I've never seen him try to hit anyone but me before. I don't think Aunt Petunia expected it, either, because she didn't even try to move. He hit her with the frying pan off the drain board, then threw her into the wall. I think she hit a hard part because I heard her skull crack against it. Then I felt a searing pain through my scar and blacked out. I woke up here."

With a frown, Harry asked, "Is Aunt Petunia gonna be alright?"

Professor Dumbledore looked at him gravely. "No, Harry. I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but you're aunt died just after we arrived."

Harry nodded numbly. "I figured as much, that's what happened to this, isn't it?" He raised one hand the small bandage on his forehead.

Snape frowned. "What do you know about that?"

"Not much. I just know I got this scar when Voldemort tried to kill me and my mum died to save me. It hurts when Voldemort is nearby or he's feeling very, very angry. It's never bled before and Madam Pomfrey said it was bleeding. I figured it had to do with my Aunt." He looked up to Dumbldore. "That's why I was staying with my Aunt, right? Because she was my mum's sister? That's why my scar started bleeding again, isn't it. Because she died trying to protect me."

Snape was too shocked to be insulting. "Yes, that is over simplified, but factual. There is one, minor error, however. Your existing scar did not bleed, you have a fresh wound on your forehead."

Harry sighed dramatically. Feeling silly, he said, "let me guess, this one is shaped like a duck, right?"

Hearing a dignified sort of snort, Harry looked past the Headmaster to see Professor McGonagall walking towards them. He was startled to realize that the transfiguration instructor was holding back a giggle.

"Hardly, though I am glad you are still able to make jokes, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled slightly. "I think I'm actually still in shock about my Aunt, Professor McGonagall."

She nodded kindly. "That is understandable. I should tell you, I just finished speaking with the muggle authorities, your uncle is being charged with murder. Several memories had to be modified to keep you out of things, but your uncle will face the muggle courts and justice will be served."

"What's going to happen to Dudley?"

"Your cousin," McGonagall frowned at the memory, "was offered the chance to stay with you for the summer, assuming we figure out where you are going to stay, but he declined. He is now with the muggle child protection services."

"Good, maybe he'll get some counseling with them. Without Uncle Vernon he could turn out to be a half-way decent person." Harry looked towards his Headmaster. "But all this isn't why you came, is it?"

"No, Harry, it is not," said Dumbldore. "You see, you were right about the blood protections and your aunt. Your mother wove several layers of protection spells around you when you were an infant. Those spells, combined with her sacrifice, were what saved you from Voldemort as an infant. I reworked some of those protections to work with the wards I built around Privet Drive and attached them to your Aunt. With her death, in the same manner as your mother's I might add, the spells your mother created are failing, breaking down."

"Alright, this is going to sound dense, but, what has this got to do with me?"

The Headmaster smiled knowingly. "That, is actually a very wise question. These spells have actually been breaking down since Voldemort's re-birth, they are simply doing so more quickly than before. The pain you described to me, right after Voldemort returned, was the effect of your mother's spells being forcibly re-arranged. Between the changes that happened that night and the tears caused by your aunt's death, these spells are going to fail spectacularly at some point in the near future.

"What this has to do with you, dear boy, is that these protections are tied to your life-force. Their failing will affect your health, your strength, and possibly your very life. You will have to be monitored daily, if not more often, to make sure you remain healthy."

"So what is the problem?" Harry asked, confused.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe there is one. I've taken the liberty of retrieving your things from your aunt's house, and yes, I found everything. You'll be released from the infirmary later this afternoon. Until we have a better idea what is happing with you, magically speaking, you will stay here and Professor Snape will look after you."

Harry exclaimed "What?" at the same time Professor Snape said, "Headmaster?"

After glaring at each other, Harry and Snape seemed to come to a silent understanding for Harry leaned back and shifted his glare to the headmaster while Snape spoke.

"Headmaster, I really don't think that is wise. Perhaps yourself or Professor McGonagall would be a better choice. I'm no good with children..."

Harry nodded, "As strange as it may seem, I have to agree with Professor Snape, Sir."

Snape seemed unsure, for just a moment, who he most wanted to glare at. He then realized the boy had agreed with him and shifted his gaze to the Headmaster, for all the good it did.

"Severus, Harry, as much as I would love for the two of you to put aside this silly argument, all I'm asking for at this time... is a truce." Dumbledore shifted his gaze between the two while McGonagall marveled at the nearly identical expressions of annoyance and refusal.

"Harry, Professor Snape is currently the most knowledgeable person on the planet about the protection spells your mother used..."

Ever the scholar and unable to resist being able to correct his mentor, Snape broke in to say: "They are not all Protection spells, Headmaster. That's what I've been telling you all this time and, I believe I've found a completely intact layer underneath the frayed..."

Dumbledore smiled benignly at the younger man who swiftly stopped speaking, realizing that this was not the time.

"And Severus, Harry hardly needs a minder. He merely needs someone available in case something should happen."

The dark man's glare returned fu ll force but Dumbledore just smiled pleadingly. Eventually, Snape realized he was wasting his time and said, "Alright, I will watch the boy."

Harry nodded sharply in agreement, then turned to his most hated teacher. He extended his hand toward the older man. With a sheepish grin he said:

"Truce? At least, until school starts or we come up with a better solution?"

Snape did not smile, but his scowl faded into a neutral expression.

"In the interests of expediency and my sanity, truce." Their hands touched for the briefest moment, then both let go, startled when the dry air of the infirmary allowed a spark of static at the contact.

Dumbledore just twinkled merrily.

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After spending an exhausted night in an uncomfortable hospital bed, Harry was given a private room just off the infirmary; as Gryffindor tower was currently empty. He was to report to Professor Snape twice daily for an examination of the protection spells, but otherwise his time was his. Harry could hardly remember every having this much free time to himself before. Even on the weekends he had homework, Quidditch, and Ron and Hermione to fill his time. Snape only needed a few moments to finish whatever it was he did.

The first thing he did that morning was to carefully remove the thin bandage taped to his forehead. Madam Pomfrey had said she would not be able to heal the new scar and Harry could not help but wonder about it. She'd said it was just like the old one.

He stood patiently in front of the mirror to peel off the tape, then, without having looked up, he disposed of the bandage. Almost reluctantly, he raised his eyes up to his reflection.

His dark hair was still slightly gummy from the tape and remained pushed back from his face. There, just above his eye, was the now strangely altered mark.

The old lightning bolt was there, any inflamation the from the night before long gone. However, crossing the scar at a severe angle, was a single thin, red, line. Harry scowled then and rubbed at his forehead.

As a child he'd loved that mark. It made him special and different. When he'd come to school, he learned to despise it for the same reasons. It seemed this odd dichotomy was not going to end any time soon. Voldemort had created the mark, but so had his mother, by protecting him. Vernon and Petunia had done the same thing.

Voldemort hated and feared him. Vernon hated and feared him. His mother had loved him more than life itself. But what of Petunia?

It was all too much for Harry to take in at the moment. He quickly showered and washed his hair, flattening it over the strangely twisted mark. At breakfast, a meal he shared only with Professor Snape and Dumbldore, no mention was made of the mark.

With all the teachers, even Filch, gone for the summer, Harry had free rein over the castle. He already knew there were more things to find in this wonderful place than could ever be found in a mere seven years of school. The Marauders Map was evidence of that. Even Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs hadn't managed to find all the castle's secrets. He already knew the Chamber of Secrets wasn't on there and there was a disappearing cabinet on the sixth floor that never made it to the map as well.

The trouble was, exploring the castle was rather tiresome when one did it alone. Harry found himself longing for his friends after only a few hours the first day. By the second day, he was working intently on his remaining homework. By the end of the third day, his routine had become outright boring.

This was how Harry found himself lingering after one of his examinations. Reluctant to go back to his homework, tired of being alone, and having not been sent away, Harry got up from the wide table he'd been instructed to lay on and settled in one of the empty desks to watch his teacher.

Snape was doing very little, but to a very bored fourteen-year-old, he was absolutely fascinating. The man sat at his desk, mostly still, scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment. Occasionally, he'd reference a large, dusty text, then go back to scribbling. He seemed to be having a hard time with whatever he was doing because he paused every few words, as if searching for the correct answer.

After nearly ten minutes of watching his teacher work, Harry finally gave up and left the room. Snape did not even notice the boy had stayed.

Immediately after the evening examination, Harry ate dinner, then wandered the corridors for a time before going to bed. The next day, however, he took a book with him to the dungeons. Snape had him lay on the wide table, as usual, then incanted a softly spoken spell. For several long minutes, the man seemed to be looking right through Harry, the he cancelled the spell and walked away.

Once again, Harry climbed down off the table and settled in one of the many empty desks. Snape was using one of the smaller classrooms for his studies this summer. For a time Harry alternated between reading and watching Snape over the pages but after a while became so engrossed in the story that he began ignoring the teacher altogether.

He was well engrossed in the story when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. A very familiar swish of black robes. Glancing up, Harry saw Snape standing over him with a mildly amused expression on his face.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

Harry lowered the thick volume. "I was reading, sir."

"Aren't boys supposed to like running out of doors and wreaking havoc throughout the school? What are you doing here?"

Harry just shrugged and softly repeated a line he'd heard George Weasley use, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Snape was not amused, but neither did he start screaming, so Harry counted this as a reasonable thing to say in this situation.

"Be that as it may, Potter, I would suggest you do whatever you are doing elsewhere," Snape growled at him.

Harry nodded, looking slightly disappointed, and quickly left the room. It wasn't until much later, while enjoying a slow walk through a quiet castle, that Snape realized the boy had probably sought out his company out of loneliness.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, in case I haven't mentioned this, updates will be erratic and chapter lengths will vary, depending on where I felt the story could best be divided. I don't want to stop in the middle of a scene, so some will be rather short so I can keep the next parts together.

Oh, if anyone tried to e-mail me, assume I didn't get it. I don't check my e-mail too often and a problem with my account deleted everything I had there while I wasn't looking. So, if you wanted to say something to me, send it again now that I've got the account sorted out.

I also have to say that you are all lovely people for giving me such wonderful reviews! I'm speechless, really! Well, maybe not speechless...

**Raven-Warrior05**: Did you manage to load chapter three? If you have that problem again, feel free to drop me a line.

**jenal**: Hmm, well, if Harry seems a bit immature, it's probably only going to get worse from here on out. I was trying not to make him moody. I didn't like Harry in OotP at all and I'm trying to go a different direction. I'll keep that in nind, though.

**Chiara Crawford**: (grin) you want to see what Harry find on his trips through the castle? Just wait a couple of chapters...

**t.a.g.0**: Thanks! As I mentioned earlier, I've resolve my e-mail issues, but I didn't know I was having them until your review. I guess I really should check that more often... Oh, I'm fixing those problems as soon as I upload this chapter, thanks for the corrections. I can't believe I misspelled McGonagall...

**ImperialJedi**: I rather like Harry to at least seem intelligent. OotP Harry seemed so wrong to me... I'm glad you like my interpretation.

**cat1881**: So I'm not the only one in denial over HBP? Thank heaven! Of course, I still haven't recovered from OotP so... Glad you like the story.

**Americanpie, bookworm121, LadyMacbeth and Kitten-Lass**: Glad you liked it.

Oh, and **Kira6** and **Arica, Princess of Rivendell**: I absolutely loved your reviews, so, here you go. (grin)

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Harry did not linger in the dungeon again, but while he was there Snape took care to pay greater attention to the boy's behavior. After all, Dumbledore, _had_ charged him with the boy's continued existence.

That evening and the next morning, Potter rushed in and rushed out from the examinations of his protective shields; which were far easier to understand than the boy.

The shields themselves had, indeed, been there for nearly his entire life. Definitely since before the child's birth. However, they did more than protect him. Somehow, they had been ingrained into the boy's very existence to the point where they affected his essence, his magic, and possibly his very appearance.

The only conclusion Snape could come to was not even a possibility. Not with Lily as the boy's mother. Though try as he might he could think of nothing else. So, he simply watched and decided to leave his theorizing for after they had completely broken down.

He'd held out hope, for a time, that the second layer of shielding would remain intact for sometime, but apparently it had been ruptured at the same time as the first. Both were unraveling, the second more slowly than the first.

Though the breakdown of both shields seemed to have slowed from it's earlier, rapid pace. Snape couldn't help wondering if this had anything to do with Potter's apparent restlessness.

The morning of the fifth day that Potter had been in the castle, Snape held him after their session.

"Wait a moment, Potter. I need to ask you a few questions."

"Yes sir," Harry said, sitting down in a vacant chair.

Now that he had the boy, Snape was not sure how to proceed. The things he needed to know would make sense and would only take a few words to communicate if Potter understood the research he'd been doing. Without that understanding, this would be much more difficult.

The obvious answer came to him suddenly and, on a whim, he followed the idea. Snape stood there and explained to Harry exactly what had been going on in as short of terms as possible.

While he listened, Harry absently reached up and rubbed the odd scar over his forehead. When Snape reached the end of his narration, Harry frowned.

"Well, that explains a lot," he said finally.

Snape sneered. "Care to enlighten the rest of the class? From here it seems to explain nothing."

Harry looked up as if seeing the professor for the first time. "Well, I don't know if it helps your work at all, but it certainly explains some of the strange things that seem to happen to me. Like my hair, for example. If these charms are affecting my appearance, that is."

Intrigued but unable to resist, the professor said, "Can anything explain that mess?"

Harry barely managed to hold back the scathing reply, choosing instead to be helpful. His own voice, saying the word _truce_, echoed in his ears and he was glad he'd held his tongue. "Well, no matter what I do or how it gets cut, my hair always grows back exactly like it is. My Aunt cut it all off one time, except for long fringe to cover my scar, and it all grew back before school the next morning."

The professor frowned. "It did this on more than one occasion?"

Harry just smirked. "It's constant, sir. Nobody believes me, but I'm constantly trying to make my hair lay flat. No matter what, it just springs right back up. Also, It doesn't seem to matter how many haircuts I get, it always stays the same. My last haircut was before my first year."

Snape snorted. "Well, that's certainly news to me," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked.

Shaking his head in disbelief at his own stupidity, the man replied. "You're father used to mess his up on purpose. I always assumed you did the same."

Harry made a face. "Why?"

"You are just like him in most respects, I assumed..."

Harry cut him off. "No, I mean, why would my dad mess up his hair on purpose? Seems rather stupid to me."

The boy's voice was thoughtful and made Snape pause. For the first time, he considered a serious answer to a question about James Potter. Obviously the boy had not picked up the habit from his father, he'd never known the man. Of course, who knew where James had picked it up at. Snape couldn't ever remember a time when Potter hadn't done it.

Finally, he replied, "I could not hazzard a guess. I believe you would have to ask him or someone who knew him particularly well."

The boy nodded slowly as if processing that information. "Thanks Professor," he said sincerely. "I don't know if I've been feeling any different. I don't think I've ever had this much free time on my hands before and there is so much I'm trying to figure out, I couldn't tell you if anything I did feel was caused by my mum's spell or life in general."

Snape considered that. "Though rather unhelpful, that was an unusually complete answer, Mr. Potter. That is all I needed to know at the moment, you may go to dinner if you wish."

Harry left the room silently after nodding his acknowledgment. He now had much to think about. Not only had his mother apparently put spells on him to make him look more like his dad, but he'd just had a lengthy and civil conversation with his most hated Professor. This was definitely turning out to be a strange summer.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Mr. Potter. Snape had just addressed him as Mr. Potter.

The greasy git of a potions master hadn't called him anything but 'Potter' since that first lesson when he'd humiliated the boy so horribly.

Harry frowned at the reminder of that first class. He'd so looked forward to all of his lessons those first days and Snape had, intentionally or not, completely destroyed his enthusiasm.

It had been a good lesson, regardless of how little he'd learned about potions. When Harry had thought about things later on, after he'd cooled down, he'd realized there was nothing to be horribly upset about. So the Wizarding world had bigots, jerks, and evil gits, too. That wasn't horribly surprising.

While Harry would much rather not be taught by an evil git, there was little he could do about it and he could tolerate the lessons.

The largest problem seemed to be that he had no natural aptitude for the subject, which meant he sorely missed the help he would have gotten form a less biased teacher.

But Snape was, apparently, not evil after all. It seemed that the greasy git could be a human being when he tried. Who, in their right mind, would have guessed that?

Harry couldn't say as he particularly liked the man, but he found this new Snape to be almost tolerable. Of course, Ron would die if he ever heard Harry say anything of the sort.

Harry had realized something else this summer, as well. Professor Snape was obviously a very intelligent man. He didn't show it much in class, but there it was. He'd only just started looking into a topic that Dumbledore had been researching since Harry was a year old and he already knew more about it than the old man.

He passed a statue he knew nothing about and took out his wand, setting his thoughts aside for the moment. He cast several revealing spells at the statue and the surrounding walls and floor. When those revealed nothing, he tried a status spell, and then a labelling spell, just in case a polite query would reveal the answer. Nothing happened and the status spell revealed only the statue. The labelling spell told him it was a statue of Larrington the loony and Harry jotted that information down on a small notebook using a muggle pen.

Keeping his eyes open for anything that would serve as a marker for hidden portions of the castle, Harry wandered the halls randomly. He cast a few revealing spells at random points on the walls, just for fun.

His mind wandered to his father and the marauders. He wondered if tis was how they had found all those secret passages and hidden rooms. Like the passage behind the one-eyed witch on the third floor. You had to tap that one with your wand and say _dissendium_ to open it. Did they just wander around tapping statues and saying random words?"

He considered, for a moment, if he should write to Sirius and Professor Lupin. He'd barely heard from them in the last year. Harry had, during third year, become accustomed to talking with Professor Lupin. Between the patronus lessons and the times the man had tried to cheer him up on Hogsmede weekends, Harry felt as if he knew Lupin better than Sirius, though he cared for the latter a great deal.

"Harry? Are you up here?" Remus Lupin said and Harry nearly fainted from shock.

"Pr- Professor Lupin! Yes, I'm right here. I was just thinking about you. You startled me."

There was a faint growl of excitement and, instead of the tired-looking Professor, Harry spotted a humongous black dog sliding around the nearest corner.

"Sirius!" Harry cried, crouching slightly to hug the dog. With a faint pop, slender but strong arms wrapped around him and Harry sighed deeply. He did not get the opportunity to enjoy it, however. Sirius's enthusiasm made him pick the boy up and swing him around.

"Padfoot! Quit that," Lupin scolded his friend. Sirius set Harry back on his feet again and looked sheepish.

"Sorry Harry."

Lupin just shook his head. "Harry, we've come to take you downstairs. There are some questions about the other night... You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, that's why Sirius is here. He's your legal guardian, now."

Harry frowned. "But that can't work, can it? I mean, won't they just arrest you?"

Sirius grinned wolfishly while Lupin smirked, an ironic scenario if Harry had ever seen one.

"Ordinarily, Harry, yes, he would be arrested on sight. But, in this instance, the aurors who are questioning you are on Dumbledore's team. They know the truth."

As he spoke, they walked toward the nearest staircase. The Aurors were waiting in the headmaster's office two floors below them. Harry and Sirius joked and laughed on the way while Lupin remained oddly silent. Harry considered the man as they approached the stone gargoyle.

While Sirius tried to guess the password, (Jelly slugs? Licorice wands? Sugar quill?) Harry stepped back so he was even with his former teacher.

"Are you doing alright, Professor?"

Lupin smiled kindly. "As well as to be expected at this time of the month, Harry."

The boy smacked one hand against his forehead. "I'm sorry, Professor. I forgot..."

Lupin smiled genuinely and shook his head slowly. "You have no idea how glad I am that you can forget a thing like that, Harry." He ruffled the boy's hair and said, "Though I would be doing a lot better if you would stop calling me 'professor.' Under other circumstances, James might have had you calling me 'uncle.' It's a bit creepy hearing you call me Professor. Please, call me Remus, or Moony, if you like."

Harry ducked his head, flattening his hair with a frown. He was glad to have Pro- Remus here, but between the ruffling of his hair and the mention of his father, Harry was feeling decidedly cold toward the man at the moment.

Sirius had made it to 'blood pops' and 'droobles best blowing gum' by this time.

"It's my turn, I suppose," Remus said with a wry smile. "To ask you if you are alright, Harry."

Harry started to reply, 'of course' when he paused. No, he wasn't alright. He needed to talk to someone. In fact, he really needed to talk to someone who knew his father well

_Under other circumstances, James might have had you calling me 'uncle."_

Just then, Sirus finally got the gargoyle to move with the most obvious password, "lemon sherbert.' He bounded onto he moving stair with a grin on his face and Harry leaned in to Remus.

"Could I talk to you later?" he whispered. "I mean, without Sirius? I don't think he'll understand that I don't want to make jokes. I'm just afraid he'll be upset I don't want to talk with him..."

Remus smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I'll meet you after this meeting. Don't worry, I'll take care of Sirius."

They climbed onto the moving Staircase and Harry was surprised to see the room filled with people. A woman with bright purple hair and a heart-shaped face stepped forward out of the group. Remus began doing introductions.

"Harry, you know Alaster Moody," he pointed out the grizzled old auror, who nodded to Harry. "And this," he gestured toward a woman with bright purple hair and a heart-shaped face. "Is Nymphadora-"

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" She broke in, her eyes flashing. "It's Tonks."

"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," he finished with a look that made her blush.

Remus pointed out Kingsley Shacklebolt and was about to say another name when Sirius broke in.

"Hey, what are all these people doing here, anyway?"

Tonks blushed and seemed to speak for the group when she said, "Well, there was quite a contingent who volunteered to come speak with Harry..."

Harry was confused. Tonks was easily the youngest person there, and, by default, probably the most junior. Remus saw and correctly interpreted his look. He leaned in for a whispered comment.

"Tonks' mother is Sirius' cousin, Andromeda. I think everyone is assuming that he wouldn't hurt her because she's family."

"Hurt her?"

Remus grinned. "Sirius has acquired a reputation for being fiercely protective of you, around order headquarters, anyway. He frightened half the order out of their wits when he found out you were in the infirmary because of your family. He said they should have been keeping a closer watch on you."

"The order had been watching me..." Harry repeated. "What, exactly, is the order?"

The general clamour of arguments in the room died down just in time to hear Harry's question.

"That," said Dumbldore's voice from the doorway, "is a very good question." He smiled benignly as the group parted for him to get to his desk. "Now, what, exactly, is all this hubbub about? One at a time, please. Sirius?"

The convict stepped forward. "I will not have all these people interrogating Harry."

"Quite right," Dumbledore agreed. "Only two of you may question Harry. I have to say, I had expected better of all of you..."

His tone was light and te smile never left his face despite the harsh words.

"Professor Dumbledore," Shacklebolt stepped forward, pushing Sirius to the side to accommodate his size. "We are not all here to question Mr. Potter. Tonks and I are supposed to do that. Everyone else is here to escort him to the Ministry. Fudges orders. It was some kind of work to make sure the guard was only our people, too." He said with a huff.

"And did Minister Fudge say why he required Mr. Potter's presence?"

Shackkebolt did not appear amused. "With one of Potter's guardians dead and the other accused of murder, Potter is a ward of the Ministry."

"That may be, but Mr. Potter is still under the care of his family physician and cannot leave her presence for more than half the day." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and Shacklebolt relaxed.

"In that case, I'm afraid we won't be able to take Mr. Potter with us." He turned and gestured to the group behind him. "All right, you heard the man. Move out, everybody."

Most of the room cleared quickly. Soon, it was only Harry, Remus, Sirius, Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Dumbledore.

"Now, Mr. Potter, if you would kindly relate the events of the night your aunt died to Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks, I think we'll be all set."

Harry nodded to Dumbledore and started speaking. It took nearly twenty minutes to relate the tale because Shacklebolt broke in frequently to press for details. Twice they were stopped by Tonks, who was taking notes. Once because she had broken her quill right in half; a second time because, although she was sitting in the middle of the room, she somehow managed to knock over a small table with several shining devices of unknown purpose on it.

Sirius, to Harry's relief, broke in whenever Harry hesitated to answer anything. After they'd reached the point where Harry woke up at Hogwarts, Shacklebolt stood, gesturing to Tonks, who knocked over her chair.

"That's all we need just now. Thank you Harry and we'll see you soon."

The two Aurors left, Tonks winked at Harry on the way out, and Dumbledore turned to Remus.

"Now, I do believe the three of you have something you wanted to do? Unless, you have any questions for me?"

Sirius scowled. "You bet I do! What's this about Harry being under the care of his 'family physician?' He looks fine to me! And why, exactly, is Snape looking after my godson? What is going on here?"

"Ah, well, with the problems with the protection spell, Harry is, indeed, being looked after by Madam Pomfrey, who just happens to be his family physician. She has been his entire life. As to why Severus is looking after Harry..."

Remus broke in there. ""Headmaster, if you don't mind, Harry and I are going ot get some tea while you two talk."

"Not at all, Remus."

Remus steered Harry out of the office as Dumbledore was offering Sirius a lemon drop. Harry could have sworn he saw the headmaster wink at Remus on the way out.

Once they were in the corridor, Remus said, "Well, that should keep him busy for a while. How about we talk on our way to the kitchens for some tea."

"It's just that, well, I've been hearing about my dad the last four years but in the last couple weeks... Well, I've heard some things that really bothered me." Harry stumbled over his question. Finally, he said, "Remus, was my dad a bully?"

Remus snorted loudly. "What has Severus been telling you?"

Harry shook his head. "It wasn't Professor Snape. Well, at least, it wasn't entirely him. I was talking to... Well, I was talking to someone else I trust and they said that my dad and Sirius used to pick on Professor Snape for no reason. She said they were downright vicious about it."

"Yes, they did. I'm ashamed now to say that I helped them a great deal of the time. In school I was something of a follower, doing what my friends did."

Remus sight wistfully. "Oh to know then what I know now. What none of us realized back then was that Sirius and James were spoiled brats."

Harry startled at his teacher's tone. "But-"

A smile came over the man's face. "Harry, you deserve to know the truth. I think you're old enough to understand. James was a very good man, but when he first came to Hogwarts, he was something of a brat and he was most definitely spoiled.

"You see, both James and Sirius come from old pureblood families. It was common for children from that sort of family to grow up isolated. They really didn't know how to act around other children. Especially around children who weren't exactly like they were."

They reached the kitchens and the house elves were quick to serve them a small banquet when they admitted that sandwiches with their tea would be nice.

"So when James and Sirius ran across Severus, who was no less of a brat, though he was likely more used to not getting his way, they clashed horribly. Of course, all three of them grew out of that phase of their lives very quickly. They had no choice, at Hogwarts. But they never quite got over the feud they started on the train that first day."

Harry frowned. That did explain a lot. "Professor Snape said my dad used to mess up his hair."

To Harry's surprise, Remus began laughing. "I'd forgotten he did that. Thought it was cool if his hair looked like he'd just gotten off his broom. Did I mention James was rather pompous, too?"

The tone was such that Harry had to laugh too. For some reason, hearing his dad was a jerk made him feel better, though it shouldn't have. It was like, now that he knew, it didn't matter anymore. After all, Harry wasn't his father. Remus tugged on a lock of Harry's hair.

"Actually, I'm not sure where you got this mess from. James actually had very nice hair, when he wanted to. Perhaps it comes from one of your mother's parents?"

Harry shrugged. He didn't know.

They finished up their snack and headed back toward Dumbledore's office.

"Hey Remus?" Harry said when they were getting close.

"What is it, Harry?" he asked kindly, smile still on his face.

"Thanks for being here."

Remus' smile lit up his face. For a moment, Harry couldn't see the grey hair or the deep lines on his face. "You need only ask, Harry. Anytime, day or night."

Sirius came bounding out of the staircase just as they rounded the corner toward Dumbldore's office. He shook off a slightly confused expression when he saw Harry and rushed forward to greet his godson like they hadn't seen each other in months, rather than just forty minutes.

Harry, his mind at ease for the moment, enjoyed an afternoon with two of his favourite people and said goodbye just in time to make it down to the dungeons for his nightly examination.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone. This chapter is rather longer than usual, I just couldnt' bear to split it up. Also, this authors note is rather long as well. If you simply don't care or haven't reviewed (in which case you definitely won't care,) just skip down to the double lines, that's where the story starts.

Until now I've resisted spending time rationalizing what I've written for everyone to see (rest assured, I spend a great deal of time thinking about it) but some conflicting, yet very reasonable and well though-out responses have convinced me to do just that.

You see, I don't want all of you thinking I'm completely disregarding your input. I most certainly am not. In fact, I've been thinking about what you all wrote to the point you've got me dreaming about this story. (Okay, I can see you all backing away slowly from the crazy person, just bear with me a bit.)

The thing is, I've gotten too many conflicting responses. Some of you don't think we've seen enough of Harry and Snapes rationalizations and thought processes. Some of you think we're seeing too much of both. (I'm interpreting 'Harry's acting too young' and Harry's "too girlified" (a phrase I rather like, BTW) as thinking too much.) So, to paraphrase King, when everyone says something different, feel free to ignore all their advice and contine in your own way.

I do have several scenes I cut from this story for various reasons and, if everyone seems to think they need them to fully understand this story, I might be able to put together a "Missing Moments" set, or something similar. You all have to understand, I did not sit down and write an outline, characterlist, and such for this story. I got an idea one day and just started writing it. This started as a series of scenes that I thought were really neat, written in a random order. After a while I decided they all fit together and started writing hte in-between parts. Now I've got over 40,000 words and counting.

As this chapter is rather long on it's own, I'm not going to continue this A/N much longer. I only want to re-iterate that I love all your responses, positive and negative, and even though I've decided not to act on much that you've said up to this point, that doesn't mean I don't appreciate and think about every word. A great many of your thoughts have affected later scenes and I'm also working on a second story that, believe it or not, your input is helping along greatly. You inspire me, even if you don't see it.

Some review responses:

**Arica, Princess of Rivendell**: With as much as I have been agonizing over my lovely reviewers responses, this week you are my favourite reader. Have a cookie and enjoy the nice, long chapter.

**Imperial Jedi, Lady Mackbeth, Lanfear1, ckat44, lilyseyes, RemusLupinRocks, duj, and Weirdcraz24**: I like you almost as much as Arica. You all are so wonderful, and such flatters! (blushes)

**juliedecarson**: I love your story "The Storms of Desiderium." I've got you on Author Alert (or story alert, I don't remember which and am too lazy to look) under another username. (my other personality's a Star Wars fan and doesn't want people to know) Your story actually inspired the scene that started this story. Sadly, and ironically, it didn't fit and was cut before I even started posting. Is it wrong to use this opportunity to ask when you might update? Sorry, I'll move on...

**Kitten-Lass**: We must have very similar personalities. I think most of what you mentioned were my sentiments about the previeous chapter. I really wanted more Tonks, but it didn't seem to fit just yet. You will definitely see more Padfoot and the Hari thing was a whim that seemed to work out really nicely. I liked it anyway. I'm glad you agree. It's nice to know what i've gotten right.

**Lady Galatea Ravenclaw**: How ironic that you asked that... Well, I hope you enjoy it!

**t.a.g.0**: That is reassuring, but even so... I hate it when others misspell things like names. It seems so... lazy? something like that. I was just horrified to see that I had done it. I'm usually more careful than that. Thanks again for hte help.

**Padawan Jan-AQ**: You mentioned a lot of things that had already been bothering me, I think you're the primary reason for my authors note, actually. But, I stand by what I've already written. I actually had a rather long chapter that was supposed to go at the beginning of this. It was a 'summer' chapter with Harry at the Dursleys. It built on Petunia's character and her reasons for standing between Harry and Vernon. It also introduced a pet snake (a gift from Hagrid) and spend probably five pages (in word) with Harry's reasoning about Snape and his role as a spy. I'm rather fond of this chapter and have not abandoned it, but it really didn't fit with this story. It didn't fit even when I ignored the fact that the timing didn't work.

I would consider it a great favour if you could elaborate on the term "too girlified" (I grin everytime I read that, I do so love that phrase, you don't mind if I use it do you?) As a girl myself, I'm having a hard time seeing what you are seeing and I think it would help me improve future chapters and stories if you could help me see this.

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**Chapter 5 **

The next day, Harry was back to wandering the corridors, both his visitors gone. Sirius and Remus had gathered the 'old crowd' and now they were apparently working toward some new goal, though no one would tell Harry what that might be.

Harry had enjoyed the previous afternoon so much, and had been so caught up with questions about his father, that it wasn't until he was lying down to sleep that he realized his question about this mysterious 'order' hadn't been answered.

He hated that Dumbledore had brushed him aside like that. What was worse, he'd done it deliberately, Harry was sure.

It was frustrating. Here he was, at Hogwarts, right in the middle of everything, and there was nothing he could do! He didn't even know what was going on. Voldemort was out there, likely getting stronger everyday, and it seemed like nothing was being done about it.

Harry had started having the Daily Prophet delivered at the beginning of the summer, but it hadn't had anything in it worth reading. So far, the ministry was still denying Voldemort's existence and they had even gone so far as to make digs at Dumbledore.

After just a week, Harry began throwing them away after skimming the front page. He, thankfully, hadn't seen anything by Rita Skeeter, so he assumed she was holding up her end of the bargain Hermione had made.

That was something else that bothered him. He wasn't allowed to write to his friends now that he was at Hogwarts. He knew Dumbledore had contacted them, telling them he was safe and not to write him, but Harry couldn't understand why. Surely he was safe at Hogwarts!

They day after he gave his report to the aurors was especially hard for Harry. Dumbledore had a note sent to him at breakfast telling him the Headmaster would not be at the castle for a week and it would be best if Harry stayed indoors during that time.

It was especially irritating because Harry had already planned to go flying that day. It was as if the old man was doing his best to make Harry absolutely miserable.

Harry wanted to talk to someone but he knew there was no one available. Sirius and Moony (he just couldn't bring himself to think of his teacher by his first name) would be gone fore weeks, most likely. Hagrid was gone for the summer, he'd apparently left as soon as the students had. Even Madam Pomfrey was gone. The only people left in the castle were Professor Trelawney (whom Harry knew he would never be bored enough to visit) Filch (who was an even worse choice than Trelawney) and Professor Snape.

The boy shuddered at the thought of talking to Professor Snape. Yes, the man was more tolerable now than he had been, but he still wasn't the sort of person Harry wanted to just go _talk_ to.

So he wandered the halls and corridors of Hogwarts, spelling items at random. It had occurred to him, after casting several spells the day before, that he wasn't supposed to do magic during the summer. But he'd gotten no reprimand and assumed that, even though it was summer, he was technically still at school and therefore allowed to use magic.

Harry chose the ground floor today, knowing that there was little marked on the map for this level. It stood to reason, in his opinion, that there would be a nearly equal number of secrets on each level, which meant there was still much to find on the ground floor.  
He suspected there was a vanishing cabinet on this floor, as he remembered seeing a cabinet in the left hand corridor, but couldn't find it now. He jotted down the note, knowing he couldn't be sure until the cabinet re-appeared and he could check it. After all, it might have just been moved or it could have been destroyed by Peeves.

As if thinking of the poltergeist had summoned it, Peeves flew down the corridor over Harry's head, laughing hysterically. Harry frowned, knowing that a happy Peeves meant trouble. Sure enough, just behind the poltergeist was a very angry Filch who was waving a mop uselessly at he ghost.

Harry, not wanting to get in the way of the old caretaker, ducked into an alcove off the main hall and hunched in the shadows.  
Filch was yelling as he ran past the small alcove and Harry tensed as the man stopped just out of sight. He sniffed the air audibly and turned in a tight circle, examining every part of the hall.

In a moment of clumsiness, Harry fumbled his pen, which clattered to the stone floor. Filch jumped and looked straight at the alcove. Harry flinched and leaned into the wall-

Only to find himself falling into something very soft and very, very dusty. He coughed violently until the dust settled, then shifted slowly and carefully to examine where he was without stirring up too much dust.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled his wand, saying lumos softly into the darkness.  
As he said the spell, however, his wand wasn't the only thing that lit. The small light at the tip of his wand was drowned as seven huge torches ignited, throwing light across a large room.

The room itself was the size of a medium classroom. The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in cobwebs and dust, as if the space hadn't been used in hundreds of years. Even the Chamber of Secrets had been cleaner!

He wandered around the space slowly, pushing the cobwebs out of the way. The walls of the room were lined with book shelves and a few dusty chairs and tables sat in disarray, tumbled as if they had been thrown by a great force. One leaned against a set of shelves. The wood has splintered here and Harry spotted shimering shards that could only be bits of broken glass.

The mystery of this room was something else. Obviously something huge had happened here and, if the glass shards were any indication, it had happened before the room was emptied. And possibly again afterward...

Hary paced the circuit of the room, only when he was on the opposite side noticing the stone podium in the centre of the space.  
The construction, which looked less like a podium than a half of a pillar when Harry approached it, was obscured by the broken table that was half lying on it. It took some effort to move the huge slab of wood, but once he did he was able to examine it more thoroughly.

The half-pillar was almost four feet high and the top was a shallow basin that appeared to have nothing in it. As Harry stepped toward it, however, it seemed to fill with a soft golden light. Hesitantly, he walked closer, until he was standing directly before it.

All at once a fierce wind filled the room, blowing the cobwebs and dust into a furious storm around the boy. His robes were scoured clean of dirt in the wind, the made filthy again by the very same source. The very air seemed to glow and become strangely warm on his exposed skin.

Random images passed through his mind, classes of students, busy hallways, random images of the castle and it's grounds that left him feeling like the room was full of his friends even though it was empty. As quickly as it had started, the wind died down, leaving the dirt swirled in strange patterns on the floor. The battered tables and chairs were lying in different positions and Harry realized with a start that they had been blowing about the room.

The warm, comfortable feeling faded abruptly and Harry stepped back from the basin, images already fading from his mind.  
The door to the room had been hidden behind a sheet of cobwebs, but he found it now with only a little difficulty. In a hurry to leave the space, he opened it and peered around, realizing the other side was a painting.

The subject was a grove of trees, apparently empty of any occupant. Harry recognized this portrait and he'd never yet seen anything in it. The problem was, it was located in the dungeons.

He ducked back into the room and examined it more closely. Sure enough, the ceiling was two stories high. He'd fallen over ten feet into a dusty pile of fabric that looked like it might have once been a stack of mattresses.

Well, if nothing else he'd discovered a shortcut from the first floor to the Dungeons, though he didn't think there was a scourgify strong enough to clean his landing place.

Harry not yet sure how he felt about this strange room, banished the most recent events to the back of his mind. He did, at least, feel better now than he had a while ago, though he was still annoyed with the headmaster.

He left the room by way of the portrait door, thinking that he might as well keep going the from where he was now. He really didn't have a specific plan for his exploration.

He was about to jot down the information about the room, when he realized his pen was still up on the ground floor. With a sigh and a backward glance at the portrait, he trudged up the stairs to retrieve it.

There it was, lying in the corner of the alcove. Harry picked it up and decided, as long as he was here, to take the 'shortcut' back to the dungeons again. That was still as good of a place as any to explore. There was very little about the dungeons on the Map, actually, and Harry knew why. The dungeons were Slytherin territory, and while the other houses might be tolerant of intrusion now and then, the Slytherins were too secretive to allow intruders.

Now, though, Snape was the only one Harry had to avoid and he didn't think that would be much of a problem.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Snape was working in his office, or trying to anyway, when his left arm flashed with pain. He sighed and set his quill down hastily, leaving a blob of crimson ink on the essay he'd been grading. He knew he was the last teacher to finish the previous years grading, but he couldn't bring himself to work faster. It just didn't seem worth the effort at this point.

It wasn't as if he could leave for vacation when he finished anyway.

He rubbed the soreness, knowing it wouldn't do any good. After a moment, the burning intensified, catching him by surprise even though he'd braced himself for it.

Cursing inwardly, he stood and rounded the desk. For whatever reason, walking the halls helped to clear his mind.

Not that a clear mind would help with the pain, but he knew he'd have trouble concentrating on any work in this state.

As he headed for the staircase, he caught sight of Potter disappearing behind a painting. He knew this particular painting was supposed to have a pack of wolves in it, but he'd yet to see the creatures. It was always empty when he'd passed it.

He wondered how Potter had gotten in. Usually, a door sealed with a painting required a password but there was no subject to give the password to.

While he pondered the question, he saw the painting begin to swing open and he ducked back around the corner. Potter scurried out of the doorway and headed purposefully toward the stairs.

Having nothing better to do at the moment, Snape followed him.

The boy hurried up the stairs and into a hallway on the main floor. Snape followed him, careful to stay out of sight. He was just peering around a corner, knowing the boy should be in the centre of the hall now, when he realized the boy was gone.

He set his jaw carefully, trying hard not to become frustrated. The boy must have slipped into a classroom.

One by one he checked the rooms. All four were empty.

Suddenly, the pain in his arm, which he'd mostly managed to ignore while following the boy, flared angrily. He winced and turned smartly on his heels, heading back toward his rooms.

He found a small wooden box in a cabinet and pulled out a cloth sling and a mediums sized jar of white cream.

He pulled off his outer robe and shirt and put a glove on his right hand., With little effort, he smeared the creme over his entire arm, feeling it go numb by degrees at the cream soaked into the skin and nerves. He put on the sling, settling his arm into it gently before taking the glove off.

This was giving in and he knew it. He was giving up, letting the Dark Lord win this round. He'd be useless for the remainder of the day now. The cream stopped the pain, indeed, it stopped him from feeling the whole arm, but it left him dizzy and foggy. By using it, he was admitting that monster still had power over him, could still control his actions and his time.

Somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to care. He'd be available in time for Potter's evening examination. That was the only thing of any importance he had to do today.

With a grimace at the dead weight in the sling, he laid himself down on the sofa and let himself drift off.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Deliver to: Lily Evans-Potter

Secondary Delivery: Severus Snape

Alternate Secondary: Harry James Potter

My Dear Boys,

As I write this letter, I keep telling myself that this is only a harsh reminder, for myself, in sixteen years, to finally tell the truth. A reminder to myself, yes, that would be nice. I imagine by that time I won't be nearly as grateful for the thought, but right now it's comforting.

The reason that thought is comforting is because it means I have survived the War. Most likely, both of you have as well and I am simply having a difficult time admitting to my mistakes. The alternative is that I died. Between the two choices, I prefer to be annoyed with myself.

I am going to set delivery of this letter in one of two instances. It will be delivered immediately after midnight on Harry's sixteenth birthday, or when the charms I've set around my baby boy begin to break down. I should think it would be obvious why he would need to know the truth when he reaches adulthood. What requires an explanation is why I have set charms around Harry and why they are important.

Severus, you are about to be annoyed with me for repeating things you already know, but I know what you now do for Dumbledore and I have to continue as if Harry is the one reading this. Therefore, I must begin at the beginning.

Harry, I love James Potter very much, but as I've no doubt you know, I did not like him at all until our seventh year at Hogwarts. He was an arrogant, thoughtless, childish prat for most of his life (as I'm sure Severus will have no trouble telling you as often as you will listen.) As he aged, however, he also grew up.

Before that, though, I loved another man. He was not well liked, but he was terribly intelligent and could be sweet and caring when he was so inclined. We were very much in love and had thought to marry, despite any prejudices his family held and the current, ah, political climate. I was so blinded by my youth and my caring for this man that I allowed myself to make a horrible mistake. Becoming pregnant was not that mistake, however.

You see, my Severus had been hiding me from his family. Their prejudices would not allow him to be with a muggleborn like me. I was so surprised by my current, ah, status, and wanted to share this with him so badly that I risked everything to see him.

What I hadn't realized was that my Severus had been on the verge of a terrible choice. His family had been pressuring him to join with Voldemort for some time now and he had been wiggling out of a decision, stating that his schoolwork was more important, that he would be of more use fully educated. In my haste, ignorance, and fear, I hurried to see him and interrupted a Death Eater gathering.

My Severus had to attack me, verbally at first, but then he threatened me with curses, which were badly enough aimed that I was able to dodge. He had to save face with the Death Eaters or we both would have been killed. I ran and hid, believing he hated me. I hadn't even gotten to tell him about the baby.

I was terrified and ashamed. I knew I had made a terrible mistake and that I would not be the only one to pay for it. At sixteen, I still hadn't finished school, I could not have a child to care for. A child whose father I thought hated me, I might add.

So I searched. I've always been particularly gifted at charms. I searched and eventually found a stasis spell. I practically lived in the library for nearly a month, I told headmaster Dumbledore that I was doing research on Old Magic and Protection spells in an effort to help, that's why he let me stay at Hogwarts. I did not lie to him, I searched through every branch of magic, looking for what both of us wanted. I finally found what I needed and created a way to apply it to my baby. I was almost too late for it to work, but I managed to set my unborn child in a stasis field, to keep him unchanged, un-growing, but alive and waiting until I was ready to care for him. At the same time, I used the information on protection spells to set a series of enchantments.

Originally, It was not supposed to protect my boy from outside forces, it was suppose to save him in the event of my injury. I did not discover that they could be built onto after his birth for nearly a year.

Time passed and I saw my Severus take the Dark Mark. He joined Voldemort and, though I hate to think it, I may have pushed him there. I never even gave him the chance to explain after the day he chased me from his home. I was an emotional wreck my seventh year. I was, essentially pregnant the entire time so my body was giving me mixed signals. Plus, I was heart broken and scared of what would happen to the man I loved.

It was about this time that I fell in love with James. He'd matured over the summer and, he offered me support when I needed it without questioning why I needed it. Barely a year after we graduated, we married. It was about this time that I learned of the other uses my blood-based stasis spell could be turned to.

I have to apologize here, this is most likely turning confusing. You have to understand, most of what I've done has no name. Some of it is so old that the names have been lost. Some of it was created by my own bastardization of other things I had been taught. Other parts of this are unique to myself and my situation. They could not be duplicated.

I believe I mentioned my protection spell, to save my baby should injury befall myself. Nothing short of my own death would harm the child. Shortly after I married James, I found a way to build onto the existing connection between myself and my child. I used my own life force, my personal magic, to create a protection shield around him. Nothing would be able to harm him in my presence, I would be able to help him simply by being in the room.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, who knows what I would have done to my poor child next, my tinkering canceled the stasis spell and I did not dare re-start it. James was tickled to be a father, of course. I did not have the heart to tell him the baby wasn't his.

I hate myself for what I did next. I told myself that if I could find the stasis spells, then anyone could. That my Severus would be in trouble if anyone found out he had a child by a muggleborn, a _mudblood_. As I still loved him dearly, it was far too easy to convince myself I was doing it for him, for my, _our_ child. I told myself I had to dispel any doubts that the boy was James child. I added another layer of charms to those already set. I was barely two months along when I set these charms, they took easily, as the child was barely forming.

I made sure my child would look like James. I told myself that it would save Severus' life. The truth was, I was still ashamed.

Most mothers knit a blanket for their babies. I wove a protective blanket of spells around my child. I spent every spare moment making it stronger, thicker, more difficult to detect. When I learned of the prophecy, that it might apply to my child, I added more protections to my work. The blanket became a cocoon and I set it for any possible contingency, including the ultimate one.

As I write this, my Harry is only a week old. The ultimate contingency (doesn't that sound like a muggle drama?) Is the reason I write this letter. The only reason I would leave my Harry is if I were to die. Call it a mother's intuition, or even a woman's paranoia. I fear I won't be with you when you read this because I will have died to protect you.

If this is, indeed, the case, know this, my dear Harry. I love you with every fiber of my being. I did not die because you. I _lived_ because of you. Your existence gave me purpose when I otherwise would have had none. I want nothing more than to see you happy.

And, Severus, I fear I know you too well and that you are blaming yourself for all of this. I forgive you anything you may have said or done. I love you and I always will.

I do have a favour to ask of you. I know you have thought of Harry as James' child up until this point, but _he is yours_. Yours and mine. I will not ask you to be a father to Harry, at sixteen years old he most likely would not appreciate another father figure. But please, try to be his friend.

As difficult as it was to start this letter, I am finding it harder to end. I know, in my heart of hearts, that these will be my final words to the two people I love most in this world. All I have to offer is this advice. Laugh, love, and live. For yourselves, for each other, for the ones you love. Be happy my boys.

Love, Always,

Lily Evans-Potter

P.S. Now that I've shown you this horrid letter, go find James, Sirius, and Remus (for all of them will love to hear how silly and hormonal I am) and make fun of me over tea and biscuits. I deserve it for being so melodramatic. I am going to dig out a frame to hang this letter on the wall so I can laugh at it every day and remind myself how lucky I am to have lived through the war and to have such wonderful people in my life.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The light-hearted post-script to Lily's letter left a hollow aching inside his chest. Snape settled it on the table in front of him, not trusting himself not to tear it to pieces in frustration. He'd gone through the entire range of emotions since the Headmaster had interupted his nap to bring it to him. The old man had frowned at his state and made him wash off the remaining cream, knowing that would cut short it's effects. Dumbledore had then stayed with him until he was again lucid and left him alone with his mail.

And what a letter it had been. His heart soared when he recognized his Lily's writing, guilt had followed, when he remembered everything that had happened. Fear when she began to speak of a child, disbelief when he found out that child was Harry. Pride at Lily's strength and determination...

And so the circle continued. It was all more than he could handle at the moment. He was just beginning to not hate the boy. It was not fair for her to do this to him now.

_He had a son._ A child, a little boy. Well, not so little now, of course...

Harry Potter was his son.

Snape winced whenever he remembered how he'd treated the boy. Granted, he could have been worse, but it would have been quite difficult.

It was amazing how a single bit of information, just a few words, could make one regret years of their life. _'He is yours.'_ Three words, really. Three words that made him regret every moment he'd ever spent with the boy.

The uneasy truce Snape and Harry had made a little over week ago seemed to have set them both on a different path from where they had started. It really wasn't terribly surprising. The truce had been magically binding from the moment they both said the words, something neither had considered before hand, but both had felt afterward. It had forced both of them to see the other in truth, instead of the twisted images they had created in their minds. The question was, was this truce enough to start a real relationship on? Would they ever be able to do more than tolerate each other? Did either of them really care to try?

At least one of them did.

A noise from the doorway made Snape look up from his reverie. Potter had arrived for his evening examination and was standing there, watching him. The expression on the boy's face was one of curiosity. Seeing the boy, standing there, looking at him so calmly, no malice in his eyes, no anger, no hatred, he suddenly had to know.

"Do you hate me?"

Potter seemed surprised. He stepped inside the room and leaned slowly against the doorjamb.

"That's a very good question," he said in a slightly flat tone. "I'll answer it if you answer one for me."

Snape nodded his confirmation.

"Why do you want to know?"

Oops, he hadn't seen that one coming. "You do ask the most difficult questions."

Harry, inexplicably, smirked. "You started it."

Snape looked up suddenly and Potter froze, sure he'd finally broken their un-easy truce.

"I didn't realize it was so hard to tell whether or not you dis-liked someone."

Harry snickered. "That wasn't what I meant."

Snape raised an eyebrow at this odd interaction between them. "What did you mean?"

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood..."

"Drought of living death..." Snape propped his head up with one hand, his long fingers splayed over his eyes. The painkiller had left a headache in it's wake

"A question no first year could ever hope to answer on the spot that way. You do realize that particular potion was barely alluded to in our text books. I would have had to read and fully comprehend the entire book to even find enough information to even _research _that bloody potion."

"I thought you were an arrogant, selfish, spoiled, brat."

The smirk was back, though Snape couldn't see it, he could hear it.

"That was Malfoy. Still is, in fact."

"I'm very much aware of exactly who Draco Malfoy is. I am also aware of who Lucius Malfoy is. No matter what, I cannot call Draco to task. Lucius and I used to be friends as well as fellow Death Eaters. If I am not careful of his son, the Board of Governors will have me out of Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's protection, faster than you can say 'career suicide.'"

So far, this was the second civil conversation they had ever carried. It had also been the most enlightening, at least, for Harry. He wasn't sure what to do with a civil and informative Snape, however. He tried his best to stay light-hearted and cooperative, though it was difficult not to say something scathing when the opportunity arose.

Snape had not yet looked up, but he felt the table shift subtly as the boy sat down opposite him.

"I'm sorry, that never occurred to me."

The tone was soft, almost comforting, and enough to make Snape jump halfway out of his seat. Potter was apologizing to him? That wasn't right, it certainly wasn't where this conversation was supposed to go...

"Oh gods... don't apologize to me, boy. Whatever you do, don't apologize to _me_."

Concern filled green eyes and for an instant, all Snape could see was Lily.

"Professor? Is everything alright?"

"No. It's not alright now and it hasn't been for over sixteen years. I don't know if it will ever be alright again."

The answer startled Harry. The next statement brought him back to the conversation, however.

"You still haven't answered my question, Potter."

Harry did not smirk. "You still haven't told me why you want to know."

Snape sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands, then, he folded his hands and looked the boy straight in the eyes.

"I've made a horrible mistake. I judged you too soon, when I shouldn't have judged you at all. I've only built on that error over the past few years. I need to know if you hate me because I have to know if there is any chance of redeeming myself and correcting my behaviour."

For a long moment, both of them studied each other, neither sure what was going to happen next. Finally, Harry spoke.

"I don't hate you, Professor. I don't like you much, you're mean, rude, and horribly unfair, though I understand the last part a bit better than I used to; but I don't hate you."

Snape stared at him and Harry was unsure how to take the silence, so he continued.

"Actually, to a certain extent, I'm rather impressed. You're obviously rather intelligent and I can not imagine having to spy on Vol- er You-Know-Who..."

"Wait a minute, Potter," said Snape. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"That is some weird, twisted way I actually respect you? Yes."

Shell-shocked, Snape leaned back in his chair, his gaze unfocused. Harry smirked. He'd gotten the better of the greasy git of a potions master and he hadn't even had to be insulting.

"If it makes you feel any better, I still think you're a git."

Snape came back to his senses at the opportunistic insult and asked, "Do you have any idea what your- er, James Potter would say if he heard you say that?"

"What, that you're a git?"

Was the boy _teasing_ him? With that innocent expression, who could tell? "No, the other comment."

The light-hearted tone left the boy's voice. He became almost frighteningly serious. "If I go by Sirius' interaction with and stories about you, I'm sure he's rolling over in his grave even as we speak. If, however, I go by professor Lupin, then I'd like to think he would have been mature enough to at least respect my opinions, even if he didn't share them."

Harry glanced at the table-top, then back to his Professor's face. "Professor, I don't know all of what my father did to you, but Sirius told me quite a few stories. I want you to know, I think he, they all, actually, were total prats. I hate that they were so cruel and I want you to know I would never be that way with anyone."

"I am so sorry, Lily..." Snape muttered under his breath, barely audibly.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't hear you well..." Harry questioned.

"Potter, what did I tell you about apologizing to me?" The sentence came out much harsher than he intended and both of them winced.

"I'm sorry," Harry began. At the same time, Snape said, "I apologize, I-"

Harry grinned and Snape paled slightly.

"That was just creepy," said Harry.

"Indeed. In order to avoid a repetition, my I speak first?" Snape intoned wryly. Harry smirked as his Professor leaned on the table, as if he could no longer support his own weight.

"Potter– Harry – I owe you so much more than a simple apology. There is no excuse for the way I've treated you. It was ridiculous before, but, now that certain information has come to light..." He shook his head helplessly, his usually sharp wit and quick tongue at a loss for the appropriate words. "You're mother would be appalled. Did you know that we were friends in school?"

Harry shook his head, fascinated and slightly horrified. But for the sincerity in the man's voice, Harry was ready to ask where Professor Snape was and with whom he was currently speaking. Snape, on the other hand, felt much the same way about himself.

Snape smiled slightly but the expression, barely an upturn of the lips, would not hold. "Your mother was one of the few people who was kind to me, who actually liked me in school. I think it was part of the reason she hated your father so much, in their early years."

He picked up the letter which still lay on the table. The pages had fallen closed again and he smoothed them gently.

"I received a letter, from Lily, just a few hours ago. She had it on a altered time delay, set to appear on the headmaster's desk either when you turned sixteen, or the charms and protection spells she set on you began to deteriorate. There were things she wanted both of us to know and she was afraid she wouldn't be here to tell us..."

Harry nodded slowly, solemnly. He forced his voice to be even and light. It still trembled slightly. "So, what did my- my mother have to say?"

Snape passed it over. "You should read it yourself, it's addressed to both of us."

The letter was very long and it rambled quite a bit, but it showed Lily's personality so well that every word was worth more than a thousand stories about her. As he watched, a single tear spilled down Harry's face. He either did not notice it, or didn't care because no hand rose to angrily wipe it away.

When he finished, Harry laid the pages down on the table and smoothed his hands over them. He closed his eyes and did not move at all for a very long time. When he finally opened them, his eyes revealed no emotion, just a rawness that the older man had never seen before.

"What does this mean?" The tears were obviously very close to the surface as he spoke.

"I have no idea."

A second tear fell down the boy's face as he smoothed his fingers down the pages in front of him. A moment later, he stood and bolted for the door before the Professor could even protest.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Harry tore out of the room and down the corridor, not even noticing the tears that ran down his face. He pounded up the stairs wildly, following where ever the moving staircases took him. With no destination in mind, he didn't bother with the alternate routes. He ran out of breath halfway up the spiral stair that led to the astronomy tower. Deciding that was as good a destination as any, he finished the stairs only slightly more slowly and let the heavy door slam behind him.

Out in the fresh air, the tears slowed but did not stop. Adrenalin left him shaking as he cried. He was so keyed up he did not hear the door squeak open or thud shut as a figure slipped through. He did notice, however, when Neville Longbottom sat next to him on the edge of the large balcony.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry didn't look at the other boy, he just broke out laughing. Suddenly, he'd conjured up an image of them in reversed roles and couldn't help himself. He laughed loud and long, knowing he was at least partially hysterical and it not at all funny.

Neville was about to go find Madam Pomfrey when Harry's laugher finally died down to soft giggles. He watched Harry fall backward and lay sprawled next to the railing. "Are you all right Harry? That was kinda scary. I saw you running and followed you up here..."

Harry sighed heavily and stretched his hands up into the air, looking vaguely like he was trying to tough the clouds drifting across the sky. "No, Neville, I'm not all right. I don't know if I'll ever be all right again." He didn't notice that he was unconsciously echoing Snape's earlier words.

"Oh, Harry, that's awful."

Harry giggled hysterically, again, then said, "Oh, if only the adoring masses could see me now. Rita Skeeter would have a fit if she were allowed to write this story. 'Boy-who-bloody-well-wouldn't-die breaks down.'" Harry sat up and dangled his feet over the edge of the balcony. "I hate that title you know."

"Why?" Neville asked kindly. He had decided to ignore the other things Harry had said for the moment. His friend was hurting, and with good reason.

"Everyone puts me on level with the most evil wizard who ever lived because they won't say either of our names. The Dark Lord, and The Boy-Who-Lived. I have too many things in common with Voldemort already."

Neville eyed Harry but said nothing.

"Did you know we even look a bit alike. Well, I look a bit like he did when he was in school. He barely looks human now. He was a bit taller and had better hair." Harry pushed at his own unruly mop, which seemed a bit better behaved than normal, and shook his head. "We're both Parselmouths. Did you know Voldemort grew up in an orphanage? His father abandoned his mother when he found out she was a witch and his mother lived just long enough to name him, or so the story goes. Tom Marvolo Riddle." Harry snickered.

"We both have nicknames instead of 'real' names."

"What was that last one?" Neville asked in surprise.

Harry snickered. "Harry and Tom. Both are considered nicknames but that's what it says on my birth certificate. Harry James Potter. People were always asking me what it was short for when I was younger."

"You're being ridiculous, Harry. You're naming random similarities that could apply to anyone. And your parent's are dead, they didn't abandon you."

Harry laughed again. "My father isn't dead. My mother is dead and James Potter is dead. My father is very much alive."

Neville paused, then scooted closer and leaned against the railing. "This is news to me. How many people know?"

"Three, including you and I."

"Okay, is this good news or bad news? And how long have you known? Have you met him? Do you two get along alright?"

Harry glanced away from the view in front of him long enough to see the serious expression on his friend's face. "Odd, those aren't the questions I expected."

"They seemed like the most important. Obviously I have quite a few more."

Harry smiled. "Thanks for that. Well, Yes, I've met him, he's one of the three who know. I've known he was my father for about," Harry checked his wristwatch, but then remembered he wasn't wearing it. It had broken during the third task. "I've known he was my father for about twenty minutes, I think, though I've known him a lot longer. We didn't used to get along at all, but I think that's getting better and whether this is all good news or not depends on whether I was right about things changing."

"I'm glad for you Harry." When Harry snorted, he asked "What?"

"You wouldn't say that if I told you who he is."

"Yes I would." Nevile said firmly. "Because as long as you two have each other, it doesn't matter who he is or what I think of him. All that matters is that you two are happy with each other." Neville paused, "You don't even have to tell me if you don't want, but if you don't mind me asking, how come you look so much like James Potter if he's not really your father? I've seen pictures, you know."

"My mum cast charms on me even before I was born. They are breaking down now, that's why I found out." Harry stopped. "Wait a minute, what are you doing here, anyway? It's summertime, isn't it?"

Neville laughed. "You must be really upset if it just occurred to you it's summertime. I mean, school's been out for weeks. We have to go back in just a few weeks. Er, come back, I mean."

"Yeah, It's been a really odd summer. First, my aunt dies protecting me, then I find out about my parents and now I'm sitting up here talking to you. You're a really good listener, you know that? How come we don't talk more often? I mean, we've lived in the same room for four years and I feel like I hardly know anything about you."

"I'm not much for talking," Neville admitted. "Like you said, I'm a better listener. And I'm here for a few days because my Gran is sick. She had to go to St. Mungos. Professor Dumbledore said there were enough teachers still here that I could stay for a couple of days until My uncle gets back from vacation."

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked.

Neville smiled very faintly. "Thankfully, yes. She's a bit delirious, which is kinda creepy, but the healers say she'll be herself in a few days. She should be better in a week or two. Gran kept thinking I was my father on the way to the hospital."

Harry nodded encouragingly at his friend's words. "That had to be especially hard for you. What with..." Harry trailed off, Neville didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, it was creepy. At least I know _she's_ going to get better."

Neville studied his friend's face, then said, "You know, don't you? About my parents?"

Harry nodded.

"How come you never said anything?"

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. When you wanted to talk about it." Their eyes locked. "I know what it's like to have everyone else know everything about you. I'm the only one who knows, I think. Dumbledore told me when I recognized their names in... Well, we were talking about Barty Crouch Jr.'s trial and it came up."

Neville nodded, understanding. "You know some odd things, Harry." He paused for a breath. "You know your life sucks, right?"

Harry laughed. "Sometimes it's alright. It will definitely suck less when- if- I get to know my father. If we can get along. That would be nice. I think things will suck a lot less when Voldemort's dead, too."

"So, life doesn't suck when it has the potential to get better?"

"Yep, that's right," Harry said. He pulled his legs up. "I should probably get back. I probably need to apologize for running out on... on my father."

"You ran out on your father?"

Harry winced. "I was very angry."

"So I noticed." Neville snickered.

Harry winced again. "I'm sorry I dumped all this on you. That wasn't fair."

"It's all right, Harry. In fact, I'm glad I was here for you."

"I don't suppose... I mean, I hate to ask, but... Could you not tell anybody? I"m not sure who should know yet and those that should really should hear it from me first."

"Don't worry, I won't say anything."

Harry smiled teasingly. "I can't believe you still haven't asked who he is."

Neville shrugged, then smiled. "I figure you'll tell me when you're ready. I probably don't know him anyway."

"Oh, you know him, though I may never be ready to tell you," Harry said mournfully. "I mean, I'd have to tell you I'm related to the one thing you fear most. I don't know how you'll ever manage to speak to me again."

Neville had been in the process of standing up but now he fell back against the stone railing. "Professor Snape? No way!" He looked over at his friend, who hadn't moved. "Bloody hell!"

"I don't think I've ever heard you swear before." Harry said with a slight tremor in his voice.

"I don't think I've ever been in a situation that warranted it before." Was the slightly shocked response. He shook his head slowly. "Well, what I said still goes, if you are happy, that's all that matters. I'm assuming he didn't know until you did?"

"He knew a couple of hours before. He got a letter from my mum on a delayed delivery. She wanted to make sure someone knew if she died before she could tell us."

Neville shuddered. "I really don't know what to say. Except... Now I have to wonder about Professor Snape. I mean, your mum must have seen something in him, right? So there must be more to him that he let's his student's see. Do you think he'll go easier on you now?"

Harry snorted. "He might, if we don't kill each other first. He's supposed to be looking after me the next few weeks. I don't know what will happen when one of us needs to leave the school. If he's still looking after me, I might end up at his house or something."

"Professor Snape's house... That's just strange. I never think about our teachers as having homes."

"Some of them don't," Harry said. "Madam Pomfrey stays here year round. Filch never leaves either. Professor Trelawney lives here all the time, too. I'm not sure about anyone else."

"I repeat, you know some odd things, Harry."

Harry smiled and helped his friend stand. "That's what happens when you're stuck at school during the summer. You know I actually heard McGonagal snort? I'm thinking I might even hear her laugh if I stick around long enough..."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

After cooling off, and talking things through with Neville, Harry felt much calmer. The two of them had degenerated into discussion about the most inane things after their brief discussion of their teachers' home lives.

He wandered the upper floors of the castle for a few minutes, watching the sun set through random windows. Night had fallen completely by the time he came to a decision.

Neville's blatant acceptance had helped tremendously. The other boy hated Professor Snape with everything in him and had not only accepted every word Harry had said, he'd accepted the possibility that Harry would truly be the potions master's son.

With some trepidation, Harry descended through the castle, taking the longest route possible to the dungeons. After nearly an hour, however, he could not delay any longer. He arrived outside his teacher's office to find a light peeking around the partially open door. Somehow, Harry new it had been left that way for him.

He pushed on the heavy wooden door and heard it creak open. In the dimly lighted room, Harry saw Professor Snape sitting in his chair, with his head cradled on his arms on the desk. The man was fast asleep.

Harry stepped forward slowly, not sure what was acceptable.

"Sir?" He called out softly. There was no response.

"Professor Snape, sir?"

The man stirred gently, then raised his head, confusion in his eyes. After blinking a couple of times, however, his vision cleared and it was obvious he remembered everything clearly. He looked at Harry curiously, waiting for the boy to speak first.

Harry swallowed visibly, searching the room with his eyes, as if the answer lay nearby somewhere. He spotted the letter lying on the desk still.

"May I?" he asked, reaching for it. Snape nodded acquiescence.

Harry picked it up and glanced at the first page, then looked up to his teacher.

"What does this mean? For you and I, I mean."

"What ever we want it to mean, I suppose. Lily, your mother, she wouldn't want this to hurt us."

Harry nodded numbly, then sat for several minutes more. "I don't think we should tell anyone."

He saw the hurt flash in Snape's, his father's eyes, brief as the expression was, and shook his head quickly. "No, I don't mean it like that. Vol- er, You-Know-Who," knowing the man's preference for not saying Voldemort's name, Harry made the effort to avoid doing so, "is already after you because you turned on him. He would chase you to the ends of the earth if he found out you were related to me. He thinks he's killed my parents and he doesn't know yet who's closest to me. If he thought he could hurt me by killing you, he'd do it in a heartbeat. It's bad enough Ron and Hermione are in danger because of me..."

"I understand," Snape said, breaking into his explanation in relief. "And I agree. I also would not want the Dark Lord to use you against me."

Harry sighed gratefully. "I think I need time to think about this. It really hasn't sunk in, yet."

"That would probably be a good idea. Sleep on it?"

Harry nodded gratefully. He stood and turned away from the table, only to pause and look back.

"Whatever else may come up, I do want to get to know you better. I- I said I didn't like you very much, earlier, but I- I think maybe I don't know you well enough to have made that decision yet."

Snape inclined his head respectfully. "I would rather like the opportunity to change your opinion of me as I have already changed my opinion of you."

Harry smiled faintly, then left the room quickly. Severus looked balefully at the letter before standing. Leaving it lay, he headed for his bedroom, lost in the past and hopeful that sleep would clear his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

This is a rather short chapter, compared to the previous one, and it is being posted a couple days sooner than I intended because I feel I must adress some of your reviews immediately.

First, I owe all of you an apology for not making these things clear at the beginning of the story. As soo as this is posted I am going to add an authors not to the beginning of chapter one.

This story is NOT a slash fic. I do not have anything against slash in particular (at least, nothing that I don't have against romance in general) and read it on occasion, but I cannot write slash any more than I can write more conventional romance. I apologize to all of you who thought this was a HP/SS fic.

This story IS a response to Severitus' Challenge. Essentially, the challenge is to write a stroy where Severus Snape is Harry Potter's father. The link to the challenge is http/ www. severitus. net/ thechallenge. htm (you'll have to remove the spaces.) I'm not entirely sure I'm going to meet all the criteria, since this is set mostly in the summer just now, but that's what I'm shooting for. Severitus herself is a very good author and I reccomend you check out her work. She's listed as one of my favourite authors (or will be in a few minutes.)

This story IS set just after fourth year (That would be just after the ending of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, hence the quoted/altered chapter at the beginning.) OotP and the events there in will play a minor role in this story but HBP will most definitely not come into play. I started this long before HBP came out and I do not want it to include spoilers. (Not to mention I'm still horribly scarred from reading HBP and am so far denying hte existance of the book. I am having even more trouble coping with this one than I did OotP)

I think I covered all the major issues, here are some quick responses, then the very short chapter that will, in a few days, be followed by a longer one.

**juliedecarson** and **pazed**: LOL, no I didn't put "That strange room" in for color! I'm going for a plot here! Also, there will be a bit of very subtle comic relief later on... maybe. That will have a larger impact on the story later on, I promise. In the mean time, just take it at face value.

**starangel2106, obsessed-reader, mystiksnake** and **lady indis**: I thought Neville being there was kind of random too, but like you I liked the idea and he plays a slightly more important role later on, so he had to show up now. (Sorry, I kind of turned him into a plot device) Neville was one of the few things I really liked about OotP, actually. That was one of those scenes that I wrote before I started the story and it just fit so well I had to include it.

**Imperial Jedi**: Thanks for making me laugh. I need that just now. I really can't accept the praise for updating regularly. (wince) I also write Star Wars fics. I have two going right now that I haven't updated since... too long, really. Hence the alter-ego. I'm not really ducking everyone, I started this profile long before I stopped writing the other one. It's just easier for me if I keep my two favourite fandoms separate. Really!

I was worried that Harry was too accepting, so I'm glad at least somebody liked that he went right back to Snape. No Gryffindor or Slytherin, for that matter) would have stayed away long. Still, that is not the end of this issue! (Read: Denial!) See above comments about Neville. :)

**Munku-JGSPTV**: I think you'll understand everything a lot better if you keep in mind that this is set just after Goblet of Fire, not Hal-Blood Prince. I started writing this long before HBP was released and will therefore completely ignore that book for the duration.

I'm very glad you are enjoying this story so much, I hope it continues to please!

**Kitten-Lass**: I'm afraid I owe you the biggest apology of all. I truly am sorry for the confusion. I know exactly how you feel, though that had to have been some surprise! (wink) I went back and read over my summary and opening chapters and yes, you are right, this does very much seem like HP/SS if one misses the Severitus' Challenge comment in the summary. I rather thought that was self-explaintory and I tdidn't occur to me to include anything else. I am going back and adding an A/N to chapter one that should eliminate any further confusion for future readers.

I'm glad you are enjoying my story anyway and I sincerely hope I don't have any more nasty surprises in there for you. I honestly didn't mean to do that. (Though now i have to wonder, I never thought I was very good at writing slash... but there may be hope for me yet.)

**To everyone else**: I am sure I havent' listed everyone, you all are so kind with all your reviews, but in hopes of not making this note longer than the chapter, I have to stop here. Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement, it means a lot to me.

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**Chapter Six**

_Harry shook with the cold deep inside him. It wasn't a physical cold, but rather, a deep seated feeling of loss and despair that no fire or pile of quilts could help relieve. This was wrong, deep down, he knew this was wrong. How could such a thing be right?_

_It was bad enough when they became real people. Yes, it hurt to lose the idols he'd held for so long, but he'd been able to find peace with the fact that they had been hum. This was too much._

_The corridors were black as Harry crept through th em feeling utterly alone and lost. Never in his life, even at the hands of the Dursleys, had he felt quite so alone in the world. Everyone he knew seemed so distant..._

_Harry walked forlornly down the hollow, dark, cold corridors for what seemed like hours until he felt as if he couldn't take another step. Still in the pitch black, he reached out to find the stone wall he knew was nearby._

_Suddenly, as if it had been waiting for him to reach out, the castle brightened. A warm, golden light illuminated stone walls, tapestries, and paintings. A soft breeze through the corridor, brining warmth where there had been none. _

_As his fingers touched the wall, Harry felt an arc of power. He started to jerk his hand back, but instead pressed it toward the stone block._

_Borrowed strength helped him straighten his shoulders and keep moving. He started toward the middle of the corridor, but weakened when he tried to move under his own power. He simply wasn't strong enough just now to hand this on his own._

_Harry heard a soft voice calling him back and he reached for the wall again, trailing his fingers along the stone so that he could keep moving without having to be alone._

When Harry woke it was to the bright morning sunlight streaming through the drapes he had forgotten to close. He knew he had been dreaming, but all he could remember was a series of feelings, which weren't particularly helpful.

The dream kind of reminded him of the secret room he'd found the day before, though he wasn't sure why he'd be dreaming about an empty room with strange winds.

Harry sighed at the thought and climbed out of bed. He dressed with reluctance and waited to be brought breakfast. He'd decided early on that it was easier to be patient with Snape on a full stomach.

He frowned at the thought. He did not want to think about Snape today. He wasn't sure he wanted to think about Snape ever again. He certainly didn't want to see him...

But he really didn't have a choice.

Harry swore, then caught himself and looked around guiltily. Remembering that he was alone here except for the Greasy Git Harry frowned and swore again. This was not going to work.

Searching his room, looking for anything to occupy his time, Harry tried several books, polishing his broom, and flipping through his photo album. The last one turned out to be a mistake as he nearly threw it across the room in anger. He was considering going back to swearing when Dobby appeared with an over loaded breakfast try.

Harry thanked the little elf as politely as he could manage, but it must have come out gruff as Dobby stopped before leaving. The little elf looked Harry over carefully, then nodded as if making a decision.

"Is Harry Potter, sir, feeling well?"

The question made Harry pause. "I got some rather disturbing news yesterday, Dobby, but I'm otherwise fine."

"Harry Potter, sir, is not eating his dinner last night," Dobby said in a timid tone.

Harry sighed. "I guess I just wasn't hungry."

So far, Harry hadn't sent the elf away, so Dobby took this as permission to continue his inquiry. "May Dobby ask what is bothering Harry Potter, sir?"

Harry focussed on the little elf. "It's complicated, Dobby."

The little elf seemed determined not to take such a vague answer. "Dobby wants to help Harry potter but Dobby isn't knowing how."

That was a rather disturbing thought to Harry, who picked at the fruit on his breakfast tray. Dobby's help had been... Well, less than helpful in the past, though the little elf had saved Harry during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Still, that was one thing. Dobby had nearly killed Harry too many times before that.

Although, the difference between the time Dobby saved Harry and the times he tried and failed were that the little elf had more information during the Tournament.

Dobby was still standing in the middle of the room wringing his hands in his knobby jumper. This bothered Harry, though he was also standing. After a moment, Harry sat in the desk chair and pulled the second chair from next to the wall with his foot.

"Alright, I'll tell you what's bothering me on two conditions. First, you can't tell anyone. And second, you have to sit down."

Dobby looked horrified at both stipulations. "Harry Potter is a great wizard! Dobby is never telling Harry Potter's secrets!"

Harry cut off additional rambling. "Good, then sit down."

The elf looked particularly disturbed at that. "But... Harry Potter is a great wizard... Dobby isn't..."

Harry sighed and nudged the chair with his foot. "Please, Dobby? I would make me feel better."

The little elf climbed into the chair and sat expectantly. Unfortunately, now Harry was obliged to tell the story he didn't even want to think about. He sighed heavily, then decided to simply begin at the beginning.

Harry told the whole story, from the moment he stepped into the dungeons yesterday evening to the moment he returned to his room. Dobby looked ready to burst into tears at the though and was wringing his jumper harder than ever. The little elf bit his lip as Harry came to the end of his tale.

"Harry Potter must be knowing... Dobby is unsure how to say. Professor Snape is _not_ a great wizard, Harry Potter, sir..."

Old habit were, apparently, hard to break because Dobby clamped a hand over his mouth fearfully and looked as if he were about to reach for something heavy.

"It's al right, Dobby, I know already." Harry sighed. "I don't think you can help, Dobby, but it was nice to talk about this with you."

"Oh, but Dobby can help!" The little elf said proudly.

Harry looked surprised and Dobby stoo don the chair, putting him at eye level for the still seated teenager. "Dobby is knowing the room Harry Potter speaks of. It is the centre most room in Hogwarts. When Hogwarts was built, this room was the library. It was where all important things in the castle happened."

"Important things?"

Dobby nodded. "Dobby is not knowing more than that. We is not going in that room. It is warded so only some are allowed in. Harry Potter must be a great wizard indeed if he is going inside that room!"

Harry sighed. "That's just lovely. One more thing about me that's just weird."

Dobby frowned. "Harry Potter mustn't say that. Harry Potter is a great wizard."

"I certainly don't feel like a great wizard."

"Maybe Harry Potter shouldn't be talking to Dobby. Perhaps Harry Potter should be talking to his father?"

Harry sighed, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh, no! He cried. The clock read, 'You Are Very, Very Late!'

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, grabbing a slice of toast to eat on the way. "But I'm late! I'll see you later?"

The elf nodded and gathered up the tray, disappearing in a wist of smoke. Harry ran from the room and down the corridor towards the dungeons.

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Harry arrived in the classroom more than fifteen minutes late for his morning examination. Snape, however, said not a word. Harry climbed onto the low table, following the routine they had already set.

Knowing he hadn't checked it the night before, Snape took extra time this morning to see what had changed.

Of course, the difference was minimal, it was only by comparing results from several days earlier that he could see any change at all. Change was, however, happening.

The first time he had examined these spells, Snape had seen a cloak with a tear down the side. Now, with the over-view provided by Lily's letter, he was able to see deeper into the spells.

The rent in the spell work was as much a flaw in the original design as it was damage. You could only make so many alterations to a garment before the fabric would no longer take any stress. Lily had built in plenty of adjustment, but the Headmaster's original alterations had used up most of that leeway.

The charms that were breaking down now were the protection spells, thankfully. The appearance charms were in a slightly more stable position, though they were also deteriorating.

The viewing spell ended and snape found himself studying the boy in front of him, instead.

Po- The boy, was simply lying on the table with his eyes closed, as if the mere sight of his potions teacher was too much for him at the moment.

Dark hair, large glasses, that annoyingly stubborn jawlines...

Lily's nose, thankfully. That was Potter's round face, though. Lily's nose and Lily's eyes. The rest... The rest ...

He cut off that line of thought. He had, originally, been thinking that the rest was Potter's, but in a couple of months, perhaps even in a few weeks, it may not be so. In that time, the boy would likely come to resemble his natural father as opposed to the adopted one.

That line of thought was not going to help matters any.

While he regarded the boy, th subject of his examinations raised a hand to his mouth and sneezed. The boy lowered his hand, which Snape saw did indeed hold a handkerchief, and shook his head, as if to clear it.

"Sorry."

Snape cleared his throat. "Quite understandable."

He re-incanted the spell, only to let it die again. The boy's physical features were so much more interesting at the moment.

Unavoidably, his gaze was drawn to the boy's forehead. The messy black hair had fallen away from his face, fully revealing the mark.

Walking around the table to better see it, he studied the famous scar in detail. It seemed so insignificant when one simply looked at it. Just a mark, a flaw, a blemish on otherwise unbroken skin.

The straight line that crossed it seemed more significant than the original mark. In many types of notation, putting a straight line through a symbol negated it. In others, that same line emphasized the importance of said symbol. In potions, crossing out a section meant you were abandoning all previous efforts and starting over from formula.

Unable to restrain himself, Severus reached out and lifted a stray lock of hair from the boy's forehead. He ran one long finger down the thin line that crossed the lightning scar.

The boy's eyes flew open as he shuddered. No, that wasn't right. The boy actually shivered, as if cold or terribly frightened. Or distraught.

"Please don't." The boy's voice shook as he spoke.

Severus wanted to hit himself. He should have known better than to do such a thing. He had very definitely invaded the boy's personal space at a time when he most likely needed a bit more of it than usual. Touching him that way was out of line. It was far too personal for their current state of tolerance.

"I apologize. I wasn't thinking."

The boy's frown deepened, but he closed his eyes and nodded his acceptance.

"May I go now?"

"Yes, you may. Please return this evening?"

The boy nodded again, his eyes still closed. He stood, not looking at Snape, and left the room as quickly as possibly with out obviously hurrying.

Snape returned to his desk and began writing out and organizing his notes, hoping to regain some semblance of control before the evening session.

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Harry found he felt better while wandering the corridors. There was no mistake about that. He wasn't sure why, he was wandering aimlessly, but he still felt better.

That last session wish Snape had been pure torture. He'd tried everything to avoid thinking about the man. In the end he'd resorted to simply lying there and imagining that he was anywhere else.

Hermione had introduced he and Ron to the game "Anywhere but here" the previous year. Harry had never heard of it before, but he was very familiar with the way one played. He'd done it a million times as a child. He'd spent unlimited hours inside that little cupboard imagining that he was somewhere else. He'd been on that lovely beach that was featured in the commercials on the television that week. He'd raced horses across empty fields like in the story they'd read in class. He'd ridden on a flying motorcycle with a giant...

"No, wait, that one had been a dream he'd had as a child.

It didn't matter, in the end. Harry didn't care what he thought of as long as he was thinking of something else.

That had, most likely, been the problem. His wild imagining had taken him back to the cupboard under the stairs. Harry had, mentally, been ten years old again, not knowing that magic existed. He hadn't known that magic existed. He hadn't known he was special. He hadn't known his parents had been heroes.

Which was why Snape's touch had been so terrifying.

For a few terrible moments, he had forgotten everything. Including the letter from the previous night. He'd been thinking about being alone in that dark cupboard with nothing to look forward to except more of the same and then he'd felt a warm hand on his forehead. A gently, almost caring touch running across his skin.

In that roaming state of mind, he had flashed back to imagined caresses on those dark, dark nights. He'd fallen back to hoping to be rescued, wanting that imagined reassurance to be real.

Harry scuffed his shoes along the hall. He hated that. He had thought he'd finally gotten over that hoping. He had thought he had finally grown beyond that. Hoping for things like that only caused you to be disappointed when they didn't happen. He had no parents. He had no family. It was impossible.

But then, how had he felt it so clearly?

Harry scoffed. Of course Snape hadn't meant anything of the sort. His imagination had run away with him and he'd allowed it to do so.

Harry kicked a suit of armour and was gratified with the lough crash it made when he knocked the shield out of it's grasp. The armour seemed to glare at him, however, so Harry sheepishly picked the shield back up and handed it back.

With a frown, Harry kicked a stone wall instead. This was much less satisfying, but the walls didn't glare at him. Pretty soon, however, he realized he would ruin his trainers at this rate and he gave up on that as well.

His face had that overly warm feeling like he might cry and Harry knew that wouldn't do at all. Instead, he ran. Up several staircases, down the hallway past the entrance to the Gryffindor common rooms. He mostly ignored where he was going, he simply wanted to run and Hogwarts had plenty of empty corridors that were perfect for running in.

Finally, he began to feel more tired than tense and figured he could probably mange himself now.

Harry searched for distraction where ever he happened to be and almost failed to find it. His mind immediately jumped on trying to figure out why running always made him feel better. Of course the answer was because running usually got him away from Dudley's gang. Which would have immediately brought him back around to thinking about the Dursleys.

So Harry cut off the thought-loop harshly by examining the corridor he was currently in.

Somehow, even though he distinctly remembered passing it, Harry was in the corridor that led to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

There were very few portraits in this part of the castle. The ones that were here seemed to be the most anti-social of the bunch as they rarely showed up in their frames. It was just as well, really. This corridor didn't really lead anywhere.

In any other building, Harry might have questioned a corridor that led nowhere, but in Hogwarts he simply assumed it used to lead somewhere or that it would, someday, go somewhere.

At least, he had until now. Now, Harry wondered about the corridor.

He searched the paintings, but all were vacant. They most likely wouldn't have been much help anyway. The portraits seemed to know everything about the castle, but most were stark-raving mad.

Harry examined the thoroughly plain corridor and, finally, gave in a cast a revealing spell on the wall near the end.

Much to Harry's surprise, a faint blue outline appeared on the wall. Obviously a door.

With a grin, Harry immediately started in on every opening and unlocking spell he knew. It was a short list, but rather thorough. Still the wall did not move and sat down, perplexed.

Could it be that this was simply a wall? No secret passage involved?

But that just didn't feel right.

Finally, feeling silly but thinking it couldn't hurt, Harry leaned toward the wall and said, "May I pass?"

And the wall opened. The false panel swung inward and torches lit as Harry stepped through. Once inside, the wall swung closed again and Harry looked around.

He was standing on a wooden platform at the top of a deep, deep shaft. In front of him stood a pulley system with thick ropes trailing into the darkness below. The single torch near the door did not illuminate more than a few feet beyond the platform he stood on.

With some curiosity, Harry pulled the rope through the pulley. Once he had taken up the slack, the rope wouldn't move much more and he tugged hard. It finally gave way and, with a little effort, Harry managed to raise a small platform. It was not-quite two metres square and had no railings of any sort. Ropes were attached at each corner, twisting into a single cord that ran through the pulley.

The return cord fell through a hole cut in the wood making Harry realize it was designed to be operated while standing on it. Trusting it to hold, Harry stepped forward onto the wooden lift and let out a sigh of relief when it did not go plummeting down. It was obviously counter balanced or held with some sort of charm.

He slowly fed the cord through the gap, watching as the light from the platform faded. As he was engulfed in darkness, Harry began lowering the platform faster, until he realized the shaft was lightening again. In relief, he let go the rope and felt the platform stop. A few more light pulls and he was on level with a second platform.

He stepped off and found the door, which was obvious on this side.

Harry frowned. He was in the dungeons. Again.

Why did every single secret he found in this castle lead him back to the dungeons?

Harry sighed, pushing back at the flood of emotions and thoughts that threatened his mind. He trudged back up the stairs, determined not to end up back in the dungeons until after dinner.

That evening, Harry's examination was conducted quickly, efficiently, and the boy was dismissed immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

This is another short chapter and I apologize for that. I've just started a new job and haven't had any time to do, well, anything really. It's long hours, the pay sucks, standing for nine hours straight makes my feet hurt, and it's seriously cutting into my sitting around time; but I am ever so glad to have steady work again. (grin)

Sorry, really lame joke but I'm too tired to do anything better. Updates will be shorter and farther apart than what you all are used to from me, but I am not abandoning this story.

I hope you all aren't upset with me over my last authors note, it seems sort of curt in retrospect, but I was trying ot keep it short.

I'm rather tired, so if I forget to respond to something, just yell at me. Here's a couple of reveiw responses:

**juliedecarson**: I'm glad you liked the scene with Severus. That was one of those that I was unsure of, so I'm doubly glad of your review. I love the idea of secret passages in general and Hogwarts is such a grand place for them. Let me know if I get carried away. (grin)

**Munku-JGSPTV**: Don't forget, the disappearing cabinet in HBP was referenced as having appeared in another book. (Won't say more than that, it's not important and I don't want to be accused of adding spoilers.) I really only threw it in because it was a "Hogwarts thing" and I needed something for Harry to want to add to the map. It most likley won't come up again. Every painting we've seen so far (with the possible exception of the "Fat Lady" who guards Gryffindor Tower has been at least slightly bonkers. I started to write that scene with a painting and it came out nonsense, so I decided all the paintings (or at least most of them) were nuts. LOL, I'm glad you like hte story as is. I never even thought about any other way the story could be taken when I wrote this, finding out some people thought it was SS/HP really threw me because of that. I'm glad y ou like it so much. :)

**Chiara Crawford**: Good Guess, and he might have built some of them, but that's not where I'm going. Enjoy the fic.

**Alfa**: They're working on it. And Dobby will show up again, I've got plans for him, I think he got a raw deal in the books, he's kind of a plot device there.

**Claudia**: Can you believe there are people out there who haven't even read HBP yet? I ran into one last night. I advised her to forget about it because she'll hate it, but she just wouldnt' listen...

**Everyone else**: I know I've got more reviews, see my earlier comments about the new job. I apologize for leaving you all out. Enjoy.

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**Chapter Seven **

_Harry trailed his hand along the stones in the corridor, delighting in the strange golden warmth he found there. He knew the stones should be icy cold, but for some reason they were not. His touch was light as it skimmed over each tiny flaw in the material. _

_He hesitated when he reached a doorway but only for a moment. Even as he reluctantly raised his fingers from the wall, he felt the warmth through his bare feet. Smiling faintly, he stepped lightly passed the doorway, then broke into a run. Each step offered him strength for the next. The air around him sparkled with power as he opened himself to the warmth that pervaded every part of the castle. _

_No one person could be aware of everything that happened within these walls all the time, it was simply too much information for the human brain to process – No matter that she would not leave such a task to a mere human. However, she did, on occasion, lend her strength to those who needed it. Right now, Harry needed all the help he could get. He had a difficult task ahead of him. She, of course, couldn't resist lending a hand and a little extra strength. At least until he had a protector of his own. She had her favourites, just like every teacher, after all..._

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Harry woke suddenly, his heart pounding and adrenaline flowing through his veins. The dream was fading fast, but he could still remember running through, Hogwarts, excited about something. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the last dregs of sleep, then slowly pulled back his blanket and climbed out of bed to dress.

It was still too early to be up, but Harry knew he was far to keyed up to sleep. The strange dream would not completely leave him. He felt restless, but safe.

With a heavy sigh, knowing that he would be tired that night, Harry left his room, silently ignoring the clock, which read 'Go Back To Sleep!' He was startled, for a moment, to not have to pass the common room before reaching the corridor. He'd felt, for a time, like he'd been in the dormitories.

The thought left him wondering where Neville was staying. Obviously, he wasn't in Gryffindor tower either. But he didn't seem to be staying near the infirmary either. Harry hope he'd see more of the shy boy while they were both here.

Their earlier conversation had helped Harry a great deal. If nothing else, Neville's acceptance had helped. After all, if Neville could handle the fact that he and Snape were related, so could Harry.

Snape's parting comment from that night still bothered Harry a bit.

"_I would rather like the opportunity to change your opinion of me; as I have already changed my opinion of you."_

Why would Snape have changed his opinion of Harry at this point? It didn't make any sense. What would have done such a thing?" Surely it couldn't have been just that letter. The old Snape would not have cared in the least that _anyone_ was related to him.

And what had been that look on the man's face at their very next examination?

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice where he was going until he very nearly walked into the very subject of his thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

It was obvious that a snide remark came first to the man's lips, but he swallowed it before it came out.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" He said in a clipped tone.

Harry shrugged. "I had a strange dream, it woke me up. I was too awake to go back to sleep."

Both of them were startled at the answer but Harry just shrugged again and went with it. Snape wasn't cruel to him anymore and seemed slightly off-balance when Harry answered that way. Harry still enjoyed seeing the Professor unsettled too much to stop himself.

Snape seemed unsure what to say, so Harry asked, "What are you doing up, sir? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Black eyes rounded on him and Harry seriously regretted asking, but then his teacher sighed and wandered toward a nearby window. His expression was almost wistful.

After staring out the window for several long moments, he said, "I've been thinking far too much."

Harry nodded, he understood.

"Did you mean what you said? Weeks ago, in the hospital wing, when you said you didn't wish me dead."

Harry nodded, then realized he couldn't see it. "Yes, sir. I don't wish anyone dead. Certainly not by Vol- er, You-Know-Who's hand."

"But you hated me, even then?"

Harry thought about that. "I don't know. I don't think I truly hate anyone. Not even you."

Snape leaned against he wall. Harry noticed that he'd been leaning an awful lot since the summer had started. The Professor had always seemed so impressive, larger than life as he swept through a room. Now, he seemed somehow diminished. Leaning against walls and tables didn't seem to help his image any.

"Sir, are you alright?" Harry asked when Snape didn't respond.

"No, I'm not alright."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked as he stepped toward his father.

Snape looked idly out the window. "I'm marked for death. I haven't been outside this castle, except for your rescue, since the Dark Lord's return. I dare not leave. And this bloody Mark won't quit burning."

Harry had now come close enough he only had to look sideways to see Snape's face. What's more, he could see that the man was rubbing his arm slowly, pushing the loose sleeve up little by little with his motions.

"Isn't there anything that can get rid of it?"

Snape grimaced. "Yes. I can die, or the Dark Lord can release me of my oath."

"Or someone could kill the Dark Lord," Harry finished.

"That too," Snape admitted. "Though that will only mean no one can make it burn. It will still be there, hidden."

Harry winced. The man's tone was pure resignation. He had settled it in his mind that he would never again be free.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Snape scowled and turned toward Harry, only to be startled when the boy was right next to him. "What on earth are you sorry for?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry that you're in pain. And I'm sorry that... that..." He sighed helplessly. "I'm sorry things are so bad in general."

"You do know this is my own fault?"

Harry shrugged again. "I don't know anything about it."

Snape shook his head, though Harry wasn't sure why. "You would think, with everything that's happened, you, of all people, would know more about this."

Harry scowled. "And who, exactly is going to tell me? Nearly everyone clams up when I come into the room because they don't think I should know. I get information in fits and bursts when something turns up in the Prophet or Malfoy blabs something in anger. I didn't even know what the Dark Mark _was_ until the World Cup last summer."

Snape stared at him, then said quickly, "This mark is a form of loyalty oath. It is taken willingly or not at all. That is the only reason there aren't more spies inside the Dark Lord's ranks."

Harry didn't smile, but he nodded and did not look away.

"That's why you were going to go back, even though you knew you would probably get killed."

"Yes. If there had been a chance I would make it, I had to try."

Harry sighed and put one hand on the window pane. They were standing almost shoulder to shoulder now, though neither noticed. With the long uncomfortable pauses, their conversation had taken more than an hour. In a few short minutes the sky would begin lightening. The pre-dawn gloom was already erasing a few of the dimmer stars on the eastern horizon.

"I just wish there was something that could be done," Harry said wistfully.

Severus found he did not have the strength to agree, though his mind screamed the same.

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After standing together, in silence, until the sun began to rise, neither really wanted to be alone. So, Snape did the most logical thing he could think of. He invited Harry to have breakfast with him.

"Okay," Harry said easily, as if Ron had asked him the same question. This new attitude Snape had adopted this summer made it, well, not easy. But it made it possible to forget with whom he was speaking. Harry just pretended he was with someone else.

Snape led the way to the great hall where all but the staff table were covered in dustcloths. Both sat at the long staff table, Harry a bit uncomfortably, and waited on the house elves to serve them. Unlike during the year, the house elves seemed to serve meals when one was ready, rather than waiting for a specific time. Harry had eaten every mean in his room until now.

Neither spoke for a time, but as he started serving himself, Harry found the courage to break the silence.

"So... Remember how I said I wanted to get to know you better? That would probably work better if I knew something about you."

Snape picked up his goblet and took a sip, obviously buying time.

"What did you want to know?" He asked mildly.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know... Oh, I do know. Do you have any family? Besides me, I mean."

Glad he'd set the goblet down, knowing he'd have choked on his juice, Snape tried very hard to keep his face emotionless.

The boy had just referred to them as family. _Potter_ had just referred to _him_ as family.

"Not close relatives, no. I've some distant cousins on my father's side that I don't know well. I was an only child, my parents are dead. Their parents are dead, as well, and I have no aunts and uncles."

Snape spoke in a clipped tone that kept Harry from asking another question. He did not want to break the tenuous peace they had now.

"What about you, who are those people you lived with? What relation are they to you?"

Harry froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, when Snape turned the question back at him.

"Aunt Petunia was my mother's sister. The Dursley's aren't really worth talking about. They are afraid of magic. They hate me." Harry shrugged. "You were there, you know what happened. That was the only decent thing Aunt Petunia ever did for me and I still can't figure out why she did it."

Harry rubbed the scar on his forehead with some annoyance. Snape wondered at that habit, but did not say anything. It did, however, remind him not to rub his arm.

Their conversation died as they drifted onto these uncomfortable topics and yet, neither was really ready to be alone. They finished their meal in silence, then sat together and sipped their drinks, each hoping the other would suggest something else. When neither did, both left to try and find distraction on their own.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The day flowed as easily as molasses for both Snape and Harry. The latter ended up spending his afternoon staring out a window near Gryffindor tower. The former spent the day desperately trying to focus on any of the work he had yet to do to finish up for the year.

Ordinarily, Snape would have left the school for summer break by now. This year, even if he was finished, he still wouldn't be leaving. As long as he was still Marked he would not be able to leave the Hogwarts Wards. He wouldn't even be able to go to Hogsmede.

He sighed over the student essays, wishing desperately for something physical, and hopefully messy, to work with. It was too soon, however, to start preparing ingredients for the fall classes. They would lose too much potency in the month and a half left before classes began. Anything would be better than this, though. He almost wished for more of Potter's horribly uncomfortable questions...

The weight of the death sentence that still hung over his head was surprisingly overwhelming. It hadn't even been this bad when he'd come to confess to Dumbledore all those years ago. He'd known then that at the very least he'd end up in Azkaban. Most likely he'd end up dead.

It was as if, somehow, he'd known even then that he could still be useful. He hadn't asked for a reprieve. He hadn't asked for the chance to redeem himself. He'd fully expected to pay for his many crimes. Somehow, though, he'd not felt this before.

This death sentence was much heavier than the previous. As if he knew it was only a matter of time. Borrowed time, at that.

Snape pushed his hair back in frustration. He was not only utterly useless, he was helpless as well.

The entire situation made him feel like a fool more than anything else, and yet, he did not have the faintest idea how to get out of it. Especially now that he knew he had a child.

He hadn't the foggiest notion what to do with a fourteen year old son, but there was no part of Snape that could simply abandon the child. Even if he was only a rarely seen presence, he had to be there. That, of course, eliminated the easiest solution.

If not for Harry, he might have simply sat down outside the gates and waited for the end to happen. Equally, he might have made an assault, hoping to take a few of them out as well. But Potter- Harry deserved for him to stay alive.

Then again, wouldn't Potter be better off without his interfering? What, exactly could he offer the boy? Even if he hadn't been marked for death, it was still suicide keeping a Death Eater around.

A sharp stabbing pain brought Snape out of his reverie and sent him walking the halls once again. He was searching for distraction, anything to take his mind off the pain. He already knew that none but the strongest painkillers were effective. Most of those that worked were addictive or had much worse side effects. He thought longingly of the cream in the wooden box in his rooms, then dismissed the thought with a little regret. He may be useless right now, but long-term use of that would make him worthless as well.

It was only a few steps outside his office, however, that he encountered Harry again.

"I'm sorry Professor," Harry said. The boy was distracted by something and seemed slightly annoyed. He repeatedly glared at the walls around him.

"What are you doing down here?" Snape asked with as little annoyance as he could manage. The boy didn't seem notice his tone of voice at all.

"I have no idea, I was on my way back upstairs." Harry then muttered something about 'bloody castle is trying to make me crazy.'

Snape caught his eye automatically and felt the pain in his arm cease as he was drawn into the boy's gaze. After only a few moments, however, Potter turned away. It took immense effort for him to not cry out as the pain returned full force.

"Harry, look at me again." Snape's tone was forceful enough to make Harry obey, even if the request was odd. Their gazes locked again and once again the pain abated.

"What is it, sir?" Harry asked without breaking his gaze.

Snape shook his head slowly, knowing he couldn't look at the boy forever and savouring the pain free moments while he could.

"I do not know, but I intend to find out."

The pair returned to Snape's office and the older man began pulling books off the shelves while he explained the effect to Harry.

"Well," Harry began, thinking out loud. "That could only be one of three things: the resurrection spell Voldemort used, the blood connection between me and you, or a combination of the two."

Snape frowned. "That is not particularly helpful."

Harry agreed, though he did not say so. "It's just an idea, but I think it has to do with the resurrection ritual. I picked up some of His traits when he failed to kill me all those years ago. Then he used my blood to bring himself back."

Snape looked up from the tome he was leafing through. His face showed excitement.

"Yes, and the Mark was created by using blood. It would have had to be altered, at least at his end, to work once he had a new body. That's why no one could use the Mark to find him while he was a disembodied spirit."

Harry picked up the thread easily, completely ignoring the books Snape had handed him.

"Let me guess, it's supposed to stop hurting when you go to Him?"

Snape nodded.

"Then that's why. The Mark thinks I'm Him."

Harry said the last cheerfully and very loudly. Both of them froze at the proclamation. Harry whispered again, "The Mark thinks I'm Voldemort."

Snape was shaken to the very core. Harry Potter, his son, was being mistaken for the Dark Lord. The situation was unthinkable and made him want to recoil in terror.

But Harry was less terrified than intrigued. While Snape stared in shock, Harry began asking questions.

"How is the Mark created? Is it a charm? Or is it potion based?"

Snape answered automatically. "It's closer to a loyalty oath. The charm _Morsmordre_ is combined with a protean charm, and exchange of blood and a tracking spell."

"What cancels _Morsmordre_?"

Snape was still slightly dazed and hadn't caught on to where Harry's questioning was going.

"A simple _Finite Incantatem_ will do if it is properly applied."

Harry considered that for several moments. He had an idea that could help a great many things, but Snape would never let him try it. The man was shell-shocked at the idea that Harry had anything in common with the Dark Lord.

But... If Harry could do it before Snape snapped out of this, then it would be done.

Also, that strong voice he'd heard in his dreams occasionally was telling him he was absolutely right.

_Better to ask forgiveness than permission_, Harry thought as he walked around the table. He grasped the man's arm and pushed the sleeve up before Snape could realize what was happening. Even as a protest formed on Snape's lips, Harry pulled out his penknife and slashed his left hand. He resolutely focussed all his mind on that link he shared with Voldemort then concentrated on the mark, wrapping one hand around it and pointing his wand at it with the other hand. In a strong voice, Harry muttered the cancelling charm for the tracking spell along with a very powerful _Finite Incantatem_.

This was not the methode that was meant to be used to erase the mark. Indeed, Voldemort had never designed any cancelling effect on the Mark whatsoever. Never the less, it was effective. Harry felt a searing pain through his scar as Voldemort raged. He took this as evidence his spell was working and he continued. When the spell had ended, Harry closed his mind and tried to force the pain away. It worked, but just barely and by the time he was again aware of his surroundings, he was no longer standing beside his father.

Harry found himself sitting on the sofa, strong arms wrapped comfortingly around his shoulders. He sighed in relief and allowed himself to lay there for several moments before alerting the person holding him that he was alright.

His eyes shifted down and he saw the pale fore-arm he'd exposed. It was completely unblemished. Only after he'd noted this, did Harry recognize the man holding him. Almost as if his mind had been waiting for that recognition, Harry was suddenly aware that Snape was muttering something just beside his ear. The tone was soft and comforting, but Harry had to hold back a snicker when he realized what the man was saying.

"Foolish child," he muttered. "Impertinent brat... Stupid. Bloody. Gryffindor! What goes on in that thick skull of yours I will never know..."

Harry coughed once when he tried to speak, but then his voice sounded normally. "I was thinking I knew what to do and this would be my one and only chance."

Snape stiffened, then squeezed tighter for a moment before releasing Harry.

"Do you have any idea what you could have done? What you did?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, I could have completely lost my mind to Voldemort or worse. What I did was eliminate his only means of tracking and or punishing you. Oh, and I probably alerted him to how this stupid link works I'd venture to say he probably knows the mark is gone too, if how angry he was is any indication."

Snape was speechlessly examining his arm, running his hand back and forth over the clear, unblemished skin.

Harry added, "I also did a mild healing charm to repair the major nerves in that arm. The Mark slowly deteriorates the major nerves and you would have, ultimately, had sever tremors in that hand."

Snape seemed beyond anger and beyond gratitude at the same time. He couldn't stop looking at his bare forearm.

Harry would have enjoyed seeing the Potions Master like this under any other circumstances, but just now he was too tired to care.

Waking up in someone's arms was something Harry had never experienced before. He'd woken up and, for that instant, known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was not alone. There was someone there to take care of things and he need not worry about anything just then. At the moment, all he wanted was to go back to that place that he'd dreamed about all too often. He laid back on the couch, comfortably leaning against his father's side, and drifted off to the man's incomprehensible mutters.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Snape regarded his sleeping son carefully. He was mostly unwilling to move. The boy seemed so comfortable, lying there and he definitely needed the rest.

Earlier, when the boy had eliminated his Mark, for just an instant, their minds had been connected. He saw a depth of Harry Potter's mind that the boy may not even know existed. It hadn't been a long look, nor a thorough one, but he understood everything that had occurred in Harry's mind during that brief instant. He understood completely what the boy had put into those spells and he'd felt the intense pain that opening that link to the Dark Lord caused.

Snape knew he should be writing this sudden epiphany down. At the very least he should be committing every detail to memory. But, for this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.

For now, he was enjoying holding his son close while the boy slept, something he'd likely never get to do again.

The boy was curled up against his side, occasionally snuggling closer as the odd thought overtook his brain. Snape gently carded a hand through the boy's hair in a soothing motion as the child whimpered softly.

The sound was barely audible, but it was obviously that of remembered pain.

That a fourteen year old should dream of pain and tortures was unthinkable, but it apparently happened. Harry was living proof. The boy should be dreaming of Quidditch and having to give a class presentation naked like normal people.

He shifted his free hand to smooth the boy's hair back from his brow. The motion revealed the altered curse-scar that still remained an angry red. Snape worried about it for a moment, but the skin was cool and smooth. It seemed the colour was superficial.

At his touch, however, the boy calmed slightly. Snape kept at it until Harry was sleeping soundly and apparently undisturbed. After a time, a slight smile curled Harry's lips.

At this evidence that he was sleeping soundly, Snape lifted his son off his chest and laid him out on the sofa with a warm blanket wrapped around him.

Silently, he paced the room. This was an interesting twist to things. Yes, he was still wanted by the Dark Lord and yes, so was Harry... But now he had no way to track them. Harry's magical signature was constantly changing and impossible to trace just now and without the Mark...

But neither of them should stay here. It was simply too obvious and Hogwarts was not impenetrable.

And he felt as if he simply had to leave this castle or he might go insane, though he would not be consciously adding that to his list of reasons.

Snape tossed a handful of floo powder into the fire and called for Dumbldore.

In only a few minutes, they had made an arrangement. Of course, Dumbldore only knew half the story. Snape had said only that he had discovered a way to negate the tracking magic. The Headmaster, of course, was delighted that he was willing to take care of Harry...

They were ready to leave when Harry awoke.


	8. Chapter 8

Hiya! Sorry about the long wait, but it looks like that length of time is going to become pretty standard. Having a job is seriously cutting into my life and it's getting rather annoying. Still, paychecks are nice. (That's the thought that gets me through to the end of the week anyway.)

Since I have to be at work in a couple hours, I'm not going to reply to every review (You all are so wonderful, I love every single one of you and your words of encouragement are what prompt me to keep writing even though I know I have only six hours to sleep before I have to be back at work. Thank You!) But I am going to reply to a few th at I really think need a response (or the ones I just cou ldnt' let pass without remark.)

**Mystiksnake**: Yes, Harry's appearance is going to change, but if you've read The Rules for Severitus' Challenge you'd know when to expect it. I'm going into that more later, in the story and in future authors notes. No, I didn't say where they were going, but you'll know in a few paragraphs. :)

**Jan**: Everyone seemed to like Harry eliminating the Mark. I was surprised because that was one of those things I was seriously considering leaving out. I didn't think it fit, but apparently it does. Unfortunately, that means half my "Back at Hogwarts" stuff doesn't fit now because it required Severus still being a spy. sigh Oh, well, I'll work it out. Glad you've stuck around!

**Munku-JGSPTV**: I did reserach for you that involved re-reading several of my favourite parts of multiple Harry Potter Books. I hope you appreciate that. wink Okay, I believe the first mention we have of a Vanishing Cabinet is in CoS. I believe (I loaned my copy of that one out so I can't check) that Nearly Headless Nick convinced Peeves to cause a disturbance and Peeves dropped the cabinet outside Filch's office. Filch was furious and was sure he could get Peeves sent away because a Vanishing Cabinet was very valuble. I don't think it showed up again until OotP when Fred and George Weasley shoved Montague (who was a member of Umbridges group) into it. They only did so because it was a vanishing cabinet, otherwise it would have been pointless. Montague promptly vanished and and wasn't seen until days later when he was found disoriented in a bathroom. There, two instances, besided HPB, where the "Vanishing Cabinet" appeared. I believe it may have even been in SS, but my niece obsconded with my copy of that one over a year ago and I haven't seen it since. Sorry, I can't leave it alone either. :) Really, I never meant spark a debate like this. I was just looking for a fixture that Harry could want to discover the secrets of and possibly want to add to the Map. I wrote that even before HBP came out, it was just a randome thought.

I know Harry's connection to Hogwarts seems a bit cliché but trust me when I say I'm going somewhere with it and it will not (probably not) be vital to the storyline. It's kind of like the Vanishing cabinet. I'm also glad that the you liked the bonding, there's more of that coming up and I'm trying very hard to keep them in c haracter, or at least, in pre-HBP character. I'm going to stop here, though there is much more I want to say. I have a few more replies then i have to leave so...

**deb**: I actually wrote a good portion of this story that way and am seriously considering using that idea for a second fic. (part of what takes me so long to post is that I write way more than what fist in with the story line. I have everything written for at least three different branches in this storyline.) If you e-mail me, I'll contact you when I post that one or you can just log in and put me on author alert. That goes for everyone, BTW.

**Shadowed Rains**: Well... yes, you rambled a bit, but I am certainly guilty of the same thing (constantly) from time to time. grin Let's see... Yes, Potions and Snitches rocks, I frequently find myself perusing their lists. I'm very glad you like my story and I hope you continue to leave such up-beat replies. Yes, I can answer your question, and yes they are going back to hogwarts, unless, of course, I change my mind before them. I've got Hogwarts scenes written, but I 've only got about four chapters between now and then, so I don't know what's happening. Wait, I shouldn't admit that, should it? Oh, well. Int he future, feel free to ask away and I'll e-mai lyou i fyou asked something I shouldn't answer.

No, I don't think we're doing any special training, I like that in some fics, but I hate it when it's badly done and I don't think I can do it well. Sorry about hte typos, when i get time I'll go back over everything and fix the mistakes everyone keeps pointing out, so plese don't stop doing so. Until then, you'll have to read around them. I wish I was better about catching them the first time around, but I apparently am not. sigh Thanks for reviewing!

**Everyone**: Um, I think that's it, I pretty much covered all the questions and the comments that I felt really needed a response. If you had something specific that I missed, please e-mail me. Thanks for reviewing! There really wasnt' a good place to end this chapter, so it just kinda stops, hope you all don't mind too much.

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OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Harry woke slowly, briefly remembering a feeling of warmth in his dreams. It was not quite the same as the safe, warm feeling he felt when his father held him. That time, he'd felt the fear, the cold, and the pain creeping up, only to be chased away.

This warmth was solid, unchanging, like a wall between himself and everything else. Only the warmth seemed to be saying goodbye...

No, it was saying 'until you return,' he was sure of it. Shaking the sensation of farewell off, he sat up in the soft bed.

Oddly enough, the room was already familiar to him. Ordinarily, he required a few moments to orient himself when he woke up in a strange place. This room was different, somehow. As he dressed, he offered the walls a feeble smirk. Of course, the strangest part was that he should feel so immediately comfortable in _Snape_'s house.

Dressing quickly, he started towards the dining room, remembering his arrival the night before. They'd taken a Portkey to Snape's manor as Harry was unable to apparate and the house was not attached to the Floo network.

Harry had landed roughly, as per usual, and nearly dropped his trunk. Recovering quickly, he glanced up at his teacher. The man apparently hadn't noticed Harry's difficulties and the boy saw no reason to draw his attention to them.

"This is the drawing room, obviously," Snape had said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "You'll see most of the house on the way to your room, so I won't be giving you a tour." He hesitated a moment, then said, "Come along, then."

Harry carried his trunk and followed the Professor as quickly as possible. The house was fairly large and mostly dark, though that might have been because it was night. Harry had noticed that lighting seemed to be scarce in most wizarding buildings. Usually, he liked the dim lighting.

The drawing room opened onto a large foyer that held what was obviously the front door and a low arch that led into a short hall. Immediately to his right, once they had entered the hallway, Harry saw a large library through a second arch. Directly opposite that was a stately dining room. Past that, were a pair of closed doors which Snape identified as a laboratory and a second, primarily unused, sitting room.

At the end of the hall was a spiral stair made of warm-toned wood. At the top was a second hall. An arch to his right revealed a dark room whose purpose Harry couldn't immediately identify. Harry followed Snape past three more closed doors (unused bedrooms) before the older man stopped and opened one.

"This is your bedroom, you are welcome to change the colours and furniture in any way you like, within reason. The next door down is my _private_ chambers. Aside from my rooms you are welcome to go anywhere you like. Please stay indoors until I am able to show you the extent of the wards outside. Even then it is safer indoors, but I realize I cannot keep you hostage inside forever."

Harry smiled slightly, unsure what to say. "I won't leave without your permission," he said finally. "Is there anything else I should know about right off?"

Snape offered him an unreadable expression. "You should be fine tonight. Breakfast is at seven, if you are late, you are on your own. You saw the dining room on your way in?" Harry nodded. "I'll see you at seven, then. Good night."

At some point, unsure of how to address each other, they had both simply stopped using names and title at all. They spoke to each other, but never called the other by name. Sometimes, as now, it made for odd, stilted conversations.

"Good night," Harry replied. Snape turned away without a word.

His room had been quite large and well furnished. The large bed was stained hardwood with a light blue canopy and hangings. The bedspread was in a matching colour with darker trim and the walls themselves were white with dark blue trim. The chest of drawers and wardrobe and desk all matched the bed and a white screen with blue trim had been set up in one corner, a low changing table and bench behind it.

It wasn't until morning that Harry noticed the huge windows that spilled light on either side of the bed. Each was as wide as the door and as tall as he was. The sills were low, barely a foot off the floor, and the glass swung open as two tall and narrow panes. The draperies matched the bedspread and opened easily to light up the room.

Harry had left the drapes and one window open when he went down to breakfast, not sure when Hedwig might get here. He'd noticed the owl perch just inside the window and had settled Hedwig's cage on a low stool next to it before heading down to breakfast.

The entire house was more welcoming with sunlight streaming through the windows, which, Harry now noted, featured heavily throughout the house. All had their heavy drapes pushed aside in favour of thinner, translucent curtains. The room he'd noticed at the top of the stairs appeared to be a reading room. The corner was rounded and filled with windows as well as a soft-looking window seat.

Skipping his explorations for now, Harry continued down the steps, noticing the slight hollow sound his footsteps made, and into the lower hallway. This had no windows, but the sconces on the walls as well as the light trickling in through the arch-ways was more than enough.

The dining room was as he remembered it. The table was ridiculously long for two people, though not for the number of people the house was apparently capable to catering to. It was not set, though it was covered with a fine white cloth and three tall candles were spaced along it's length. Just as Harry was debating sitting down, he noticed a door that led off the room. Pushing it open easily, as it had no latch, Harry discovered one of the largest kitchens he had ever seen.

Though smaller than the ones at Hogwarts, the space was still enormous. The stove had eight burners with an equally large griddle attached. An island with a sink to one end stood opposite the stove while a huge cabinet stood to the side. The other side of the stove held more counter space with wooden cupboards above it and a second, larger sink in the middle of the counter that continued around the corner on the next wall. Standing before the stove, adding bacon to a sizzling pan, was Severus Snape.

Harry stepped forward slowly, not wanting to either surprise or upset the man and unsure what to do. He finally settled himself on a stool that sat before the counter and just watched. The Professor wore black trousers and a matching shirt, though Harry could see his robe hanging from a hook to the side of the cabinet. Once the pan was settled on the burner, Snape turned and seemed to be startled to find Harry sitting there.

"Good morning," he said, recovering quickly. He turned to the cabinet and retrieved a bottle of juice. Harry could feel the cold air rush out when the door was opened and he realized it was a well disguised refrigerator.

Harry replied in kind and found a glass of juice set before him. After sipping it, he said, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Snape studied him. "Can you make pancakes?"

Harry nodded and rounded the counter. The griddle was turned on with a single knob and after a few moments searching, Harry found all the things he needed. Ten minutes later, the pancakes were nearly done and Snape was leaning against the counter glaring at him.

Feeling suddenly defensive Harry folded his arms and asked, "What did I do wrong now?"

"You are quite perplexing."

Harry blanked his face and after a moment, replied, "I am going to take that as a compliment, I think. We'll get along better that way."

Snape passed him a serving platter and turned to the stove, which had three pans now, to tend his own work. "Oh believe me, it is a compliment. If I wanted to insult you, I wouldn't bother to wonder about you. You would simply be beneath my notice."

Harry snorted before he could stop himself, but otherwise left the comment alone. All the platters were added to a large tray that also held plates, flatware, glasses, juice, and coffee. Snape gathered this wordlessly and Harry followed him to the dining room. Together, they set the table and served themselves.

They ate in silence for a long time, then Harry said, "This is an odd house." Realizing that sounded terrible, he amended, "I mean, it's nice, but it's strange."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. First, it's nothing like I would have expected from your house." Snape smirked at that, but nodded at Harry to continue. "Second, it's not like any other magical building that I've ever been in. So far I haven't seen one thing that was blatantly magical. Third, it's huge, nicely decorated, obviously very clean, and occupied by only one person, well, two people now."

"Very good, any other observations?" Snape seemed intrigued, so Harry continued.

"Yeah, there are lots and lots of windows but doors only on private rooms, bedrooms and your laboratory. There are several fireplaces, but you said we're not on the Floo network. And the only door outside I've seen is the front door."

"There is a second door through my laboratory, should you need to know. The reason you've seen nothing magical in this house is because it is a muggle residence. The first witch or wizard to live here was my maternal grandmother. She was muggleborn and this is her family estate. It was built before electricity was common in the area and, though her family was well off, they never bothered to have it installed. Grandmother was an only child, though her parents were both from large families. Hence the large house. Her only child was my mother and I inherited this home from her. As it is not an inherently magical residence, solitude and quiet are easy to find here."

"It also makes a good hiding place," Harry said evenly.

"That too," Snape conceded. "As far as I know, you, myself, and Dumbledore are the only ones who know of this building's existence. The locals are all muggles who are on good enough terms with me not to question my presence but not friendly enough to disturb me."

Harry smiled at that. "It sounds too good to be true."

"It is, really. There is very little protection here, compared to your aunt's home or Hogwarts, though the blood protection your mother left you should be strong enough to bleed over to where ever you are staying. That is why you are able to visit with the Weasley's and to visit Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley without Voldemort attacking you instantly. You are, essentially, un-trackable to those who mean you harm."

"I didn't know that," Harry admitted.

Snape snorted. "Of course you didn't, Dumbledore did not want you to know. He felt you might do something rash if you know you wouldn't be attacked the moment you set foot out of doors."

Harry pondered that. "Is this spell, this protection..." he fumbled for the correct words, "Does this have a name?"

"I don't think this specific spell does. It is based on an old magics and blood bonds. I have a few books you could read on the subject."

"I'd like that."

About that time, Harry realized they had both finished eating and began gathering the dished back onto the tray. He picked up the heavy tray and started toward the door.

"Can you manage that?" Snape asked, rising to assist.

"Yes, I've got it. Thanks."

The older man nodded and pushed open the door with one arm. Harry gathered the utensils and pans they'd used earlier and dumped the lot in the larger sink. After he'd finished and left the pans in the rack to air-dry, he turned to find his father leaning against the wall by the door, once again wearing his long black robe.

"I'm going to be busy most of the day." He seemed uncomfortable and Harry fought not to grin. The image was simply too at odds with his previous image of the man. It was not too difficult to adopt a light tone.

"Don't worry, I wasn't expecting you to entertain me." Harry's voice was slightly amused despite his best efforts but the older man simply nodded.

"If you should need me I will be in my lab. You are on your own for lunch, you seem capable in the kitchen, but I will help you with dinner at six."

"Yes sir." Harry was unsure what else to say, but Snape seemed satisfied and turned away. Left alone, Harry wandered out through the dining room and explored the house a bit.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The remaining downstairs rooms were just as they had appeared the night before, if a bit brighter. The library was truly huge and fully half the books in it were muggle. What was intriguing was the cataloguing method. Harry had some experience with both magical and muggle systems from Hogwarts, his primary school, and the public library he'd been allowed to visit occasionally. This library seemed to meld magical and muggle systems so that common household spells were next to sewing pattern books. Potions and chemistry were together along with first-aid and healing books. Healing blended into anatomy. Transfiguration and charms could be found spread throughout several subjects, including those on anatomy, mundane and magical creatures, and anywhere else they seemed to fit.

As interesting as it was, however, it did not hold his attention long. Harry eventually found his way through the sitting room, which was connected with another archway, and up the stairs to the second floor. The reading room was bright and cheerful, but aside from some squishy chairs and low tables, was mostly bare. The bedrooms were all fully furnished and looked ready to be slept in, there were five, aside from his and Snape's. At the end of the hall opposite the stairs, Harry found another archway. This room differed greatly from any other in the house.

Two walls and the entire ceiling were made of glass and sunlight streamed in. The air inside was warm and quite humid. He had to descend a long spiral stair to get to the ground, but once he did, he found he was standing on a stone path that cut through fresh green grass. Raised beds filled most of the space, though large areas had been left green. Baskets and small platforms hung from the ceiling supports and vines and small trees turned the space into a jungle. The room was rectangular, twice as long as it was wide, and two stories tall. The path wound through the space, though he could see there were slightly hidden clearings that one would have to cut across the grass to get to.

Harry was startled out of his examination as a soft grinding noise sounded. He looked around and noticed several windows were opening on their own. A cool breeze drifted across the space. Frowning, he examined the windows and found a track with an embedded chain, but could not find the mechanism that started it moving. Deciding it must be a magical addition, he left his questions for another day.

After fetching some homework from his room, Harry spent a pleasant morning working at a table and chairs he found in the garden room. Lunch was sandwiches and juice and he returned to the Garden with an interesting looking book from the library. When he got there, more windows were open, drawing his curiosity to the view outside. From this side of the house, at this height, he could see the ocean to the south. It was just a bit of a haze from here and it was mostly obscured by two large ridges that seemed to meet, but it was there. The land looked very much like the land around Hogwarts, though Harry wasn't sure he was well travelled enough to tell anything short of major changes.

Glancing up at the view periodically, Harry made his way through half the story before setting it aside and heading downstairs to meet Snape for dinner. So far, they had managed several civil conversations, had worked together to solve a problem, and had lived in the same house for nearly twenty hours and no one had died or even been cursed. This was definitely a record for them. He had no desire to break the cycle any sooner than absolutely necessary.

Besides, his mind kept cycling back to waking up safe and protected...

As he stood, Harry noticed the windows sliding themselves closed, as he had assumed they would. Taking his book with him, he headed for the kitchen. Again, he found Snape already there. Leaving his book, which he'd meant to drop in his bedroom, on the dining room table, he offered to help.

They said little while the meal was prepared and all of it centred around the cooking. (Would you stir this, chop these finely, the water is boiling.) After a time, Snape said, "We misses your evaluation this morning."

Harry winced. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"As did I." Harry goggled at the admission and turned back to his work to hide his expression.

"We missed last night's, as well. I don't believe any harm was done, but we should proceed with the morning and evening examinations as before. I think after breakfast and after dinner would be good times, yes?"

Harry, though still startled his opinion was being asked, had no preference and quickly agreed. Dinner was quiet and before he knew it, he was being led into Snape's lab.

The large room was divided into two sections, the first was a small office, the second was obviously a workspace. The walls were covered in shelves that contained everything from bottles and jars, to books, to various equipment whose purpose Harry could not fathom. The centre of the workspace was filled with tables and counters of varying height and width.

Snape gestured to one of the low tables and Harry climbed up and lay down.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what are you doing?"

The professor had just been incanting the usual spell and looked surprised by the question. "I am allowing myself to see where the various spells your mother created around you intersect and how the interact with each other and with your own magical reservoirs."

"What does that tell you?"

Snape sighed. He set his wand on the counter. "It tells me many things, including how these spells are affecting your health and your magical reserves. Either could be damaged by the spells breaking down."

Harry paled. "You mean, I could be seriously hurt?"

"That is much less of a possibility than it was originally," Snape conceded. "The breakdown of these spells has slowed measurably. Right now, I am hoping to discover during their break down exactly how each of these spells works."

Harry nodded in understanding and looked at the ceiling. "I'm sorry for bothering you, go ahead."

Not having realized his frustration was bleeding into his voice, Snape was startled by the boy's response. Unsure how to respond, he continued with the spell. When he saw no major changes, he released it and the boy.

Before Harry could leave the room, he said, "I apologize for being harsh with you. It's a bit of a habit."

"That's all right. Can you tell anything else about the appearance charms my Mother used?"

Snape appeared thoughtful. "I'm afraid not. I really can't tell anything about the charms other than how fast or slow they are disintegrating."

The look that crossed the boy's face was one of disappointment.

"I believe the appearance charms were in the first layer Lily created, which means they are breaking up more slowly than the protection spells, which are nearly gone already. I think noticeable changes will start in about a week, though it will likely take a few months for any major changes, should they occur."

"Well, that's fitting," Harry grumbled.

"How so?"

"My birthday's in a week. I like the irony."

Yes, the boy was definitely more like him than James, Snape couldn't help but think. The ever Gryffindor James Potter would not have such thoughts.

To the older man's disbelief, Harry smiled and said, "Thanks," before leaving the room.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

That day set a sort of routine for the next few days. Harry woke and helped Snape make breakfast, joined Snape for his examination, then amused himself for the remainder of the day while Snape worked on various things in his lab. They made dinner together in the evening and then Harry was examined again before retiring to his room for the evening.

It was on Harry's third full day at the manor that the routine was disrupted and Harry woke to the sound of someone humming cheerfully outside his bedroom door. He put on his glasses and frowned at the clock until his eyes cleared enough to read it. He bolted out of bed when he realized it was nearly noon.

The humming moved down the hall and Harry dressed quickly as the conversations of the night before rushed through his ming. He'd lain awake until nearly dawn turning a million thoughts over and over in his mind, wondering where things would go from here.

In jeans and a tee shirt, Harry padded barefoot to his door and peeked out through it. A woman in an apron was sweeping the hardwood floors, humming happily and pulling a cleaning cart. She reached the end of the hall and pulled a dust pan from the cart to transfer the little pile of dirt into the rubbish bin on the cart. She turned and smiled at Harry.

"Oh, good, dear, you're up. Mr. Romaine asked me not to disturb you, but I'd really like to do your drapes and linens. Otherwise I'm through up here."

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't understand... Who are you?"

"Mrs. Bea Worthman, at your service, sir. I'm not surprised Mr. Romaine forgot to tell you I was coming. He forgot to tell me you were visiting until this very morning. He seems a bit out of it today, if you don't mind me saying so."

Harry wasn't sure what to say about that, so he pulled the door open all the way and stepped back into his room. Most everything was still packed safely in his trunk. His clothes were all stowed in the wardrobe with only a pair of shoes cluttering the floor.

When Mrs. Worthman stepped inside, Hedwig flew in through the open window and straight for Harry, landing gently on his shoulder. The old woman started, then stepped back. Harry hurried to reassure her.

"Don't worry, ma'am. Hedwig is a pet. She's very well trained."

Mrs. Worthman stepped forward with one hand extended. Hedwig ruffled her feathers but allowed the woman to stroke her gently.

"Here," Harry said, pulling out a bag of owl treats. "She won't be happy until I've given her some bacon or toast, it's rather later than she's used to eating breakfast." He passed one of the treats to the old woman and Hedwig accepted it graciously from her hand.

After eating the treat, Hedwig flew off to her perch.

"You let her come and go as she pleases?" Mrs. Worthman asked.

Harry shrugged. "As I said, she's very well trained. It would be cruel to keep her locked up all the time."

"Too true, too true." She looked around the room appraisingly. "Not staying very long?"

The words were innocently spoke, but all of a sudden Harry couldn't help a feeling of foreboding. He'd too often found something good, only to lose it soon after. Her words seemed to imply that the same thing would happen now.

"Why do you ask?" He said icily.

The old woman raised both hands in a show of goodwill. "Don't worry about me, I'm just an odd one. I like to ask questions. When you get to be my age, though, you realize that the wondering is more fun than knowing."

"And I pay you well you mind your business," a cold voice said from the doorway. Snape stalked into the room in dark jeans and an equally black shirt. "No questions asked, no rumours spread. I like my privacy and Mr. Evans shares my sentiments."

The woman was instantly formal and contrite. "My apologies, Mr. Romaine. I was only commenting that the room seemed rather empty. I meant no offence."

"The rest of Mr. Evans things have not arrived yet. There has been a slight delay that will shortly be worked out."

Having been warned by Snape's use of a false name, Harry did not even flinch at being referred to as Mr. Evans. He was surprised, however, when Snape moved to stand behind him, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"If there are no more questions, Madam?" Snape's voice was still icy though he squeezed Harry's shoulders reassuringly.

"No sir. I'll just get back to my work now..." She began stripping the bed, coldly ignoring Snape who turned to Harry.

"Breakfast is waiting, if you're hungry?"

Harry nodded and allowed the older man to steer him out of the room and down the stairs. When they were safely behind the closed kitchen door, Harry asked his questions.

"Who was that?"

"Mrs. Worthman is my housekeeper. She comes in once a week to sweep, dust, and wash the linens. When it is required, she also does the interior windows and cleans the drapes. I'm rarely here and the house would go to ruin without her."

Harry frowned. "You don't seem to like her very much."

With a half-smile, Snape loaded the last of the dishes on the large tray. "Mrs. Worthman serves two purposes. She cleans the house and spreads the rumours that keep my secrets. As far as she is concerned I'm a reclusive writer who comes here when he experiences writers block. You are the child of a friend of mine from school. You are staying here over summer break because your mother is ill."

"I thought we didn't want anyone to know we were here?"

"Someone is bound to notice the house is being lived in. It is well known that Professor Snape and Harry Potter dislike each other very much. Mrs. Worthman will now most likely spread that I've a child here of mysterious origin whom I'm fiercely protective of. Everyone will draw their own conclusions from there."

"I see. So we're hiding in plain sight?"

Snape smirked and refolded his napkin. "In a sense. Not that I believe anyone will look here or that Death Eaters will interview muggles, but if they do either we should be overlooked."

Harry nodded and returned to his breakfast. After a while, he said, "So, how long will she be here for?"

Snape smirked. "Most of the day, it varies depending on what she has to do." He looked Harry in the eye for a long moment, as if deciding something. "I plan on hiding in my lab the rest of the day. The door is warded with anti-muggle charms. You are welcome to join me, if you like."

Smiling, Harry said, "That would be great. I'll just get some homework to do."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Several hours later, Harry stood from the table where he'd been working and stretched. When he'd come down, it had seemed like a good idea to work on his Potions essay (Three feet on the naming of the following common potion ingredients and how mislabeling can have disastrous results) while he had the professor handy and on speaking terms. What he'd forgotten to take into account was how much he hated the class an how tenuous his peace with the man was. It took all his concentration not to become frustrated and take it out of his teacher.

Snape looked up from his piles of parchment and raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"Finished?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm stretching. This isn't easy, you know."

With a smirk, the older man returned to his work. Harry stood looked around the room and began to walk slowly along the wall. The room was divided into two sections. One was a sort of office with a large desk and several book shelves and scroll racks and a huge leather-covered chair. The other part was a laboratory with tall counters, matching stools, and various types of supplies and equipment lining the walls. The room was twice as long as it was wide and roughly three times the size of the potions classroom at Hogwarts.

Harry wandered the length of the room, idly reading labels and examining the various utensils, some of which he recognized, some he didn't. A rack with nearly two dozen sharp-looking knives stood here, a set of well-used brass scales took up space on this shelf. The next several shelves held assorted ingredients. Much of this looked brand-new while some of it looked as if it hadn't even been seen in decades. This room obviously wasn't cleaned often.

Bored and looking for something to do with his hands, Harry found some clean clothes and began dusting a randomly selected shelf. He took the time to scrape the grime off the wood while he washed the outsides of assorted containers and carefully avoided anything he didn't recognize.

It wasn't terribly difficult work but it was time consuming and before Harry knew it, Snape was standing behind him saying his name.

"I'm sorry-" Harry said as a reflex.

Snape looked at him oddly. "I wouldn't be, if I were you. You've done me quite a favour."

Harry shrugged. "I was just looking for something mindless to do. I wasn't sure if I should touch a couple of things," he began, pointing them out. Each had a small dirty area around it which made the professor smirk inwardly. "So I didn't. Touch them, I mean."

"A wise decision," Severus said, when he realized a response was required. An uncomfortable silence followed.

"Did you need something, sir?" Harry asked.

Snape startled. "Ah, I was going to ask if you wanted a bite to eat, it is past lunch time, now."

Harry smiled. "Sure, lunch sounds good."

In the afternoon, Harry didn't even bother with the essay, deciding that the would write Hermione and ask for help. It occurred to him, however, that perhaps he should ask before owling his friends. He was supposed to be in hiding, after all, and too much owl traffic would be a dead giveaway.

He cleaned instead and approached Snape with the question after Mrs. Worthman had left, while they walked to the kitchen to make dinner.

"Whether it is safe to send mail will depend greatly on what type of owl you have."

"Hedwig is a snowy owl, sir..." Snape cut off Harry's reply.

"No, no, I mean if she is inherently magical, or if she is a mundane owl who has been enchanted to carry post."

"What's the difference and how can you tell?"

Snape looked thoughtful. "Has your owl, Hedwig was her name? Has she ever mis-delivered a letter? Can she deliver a letter with an incomplete address?"

Harry smiled. "Hedwig has never failed to deliver a message and she's managed to send letters with out a single name on them anywhere. I only have to tell her who to take it to and it doesn't matter where they are, she'll find them. She always finds me, too, when I leave without her."

"Definitely a magical owl, then," Snape said, pushing through into the kitchen. "A very magical owl. Where did you get this creature?"

"Hagrid gave her to me for my eleventh birthday."

Snape scowled and muttered something about an impressive gift. "Well, he definitely has a knack with animals..." The scowl lessened. "To answer your earlier question, your owl should not be intercepted or followed, though I would avoid saying anything sensitive in your letters and I would not describe our location." He hesitated. "You should probably tell your friends to send reply back with Hedwig rather than using their own owls. No sense in any more of them knowing where we are than absolutely necessary."

"Yes sir," Harry replied, delighted with the new information. Immediately after his evening examination, Harry rushed upstairs and wrote to Ron and Hermione. After a moment's thought, he wrote to Neville too. He'd not been able to tell the other boy goodbye before he'd left Hogwarts and he was surely wondering about Harry.


	9. Chapter 9

Hi ya'll. I've been having some real problems with this chapter and, even more so, the one that follows it, which is the reason for the delay in posting. I apologize for that, but there really wasn't much I can do about it. It's here now, so I guess that's all that matters.

I've decided to stop replying to individual reviews here, but you all brought up a few things I'd like to address, because I can.

We're still not sure what's going to happen when Harry goes back to Hogwarts, you'll just have to wait and see. (Honestly, you all are way ahead of me, Harry's appearance hasn't even started to change yet!) As for Harry's appearance, Meggplant, you brought up a very good point. But don't forget, it's magic. I happen to agree that Harry ending up twelve feet tall is overdone, but I have not yet decided how this particular story will work out. I am still entertaining several options (which is part of what's taking so long.) Remember, too, this is a Severitus' Challenge fic and I intend to follow ALL the Rules.

I read lots of stories and I appreciate all reccomendations, but I can't promise when I'll have time or the interest to read all of them right now. I guess what I'm trying to say is please don't be offended if I don't read yours.

Thank you to all my reviewers, I really appreciate knowing what you do and don't like. You inspire me as well and I can't tell you how much your praise means. Thank you.

Okay, on with chapter 9

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**Chapter 9 **

Ron and Hermione's replies arrived at breakfast the next morning. Harry had, at first, been unsure of what to write, but the words flowed easily and only twice had he been forced to stop himself from writing things he shouldn't. For the most part, the letters had told about his Aunt and Uncle and told that he was going into hiding. He'd also told him that all correspondence should go through Hedwig or Dumbledore, for safety.

The dining room had no windows, but apparently Hedwig didn't mind because not long after they had sat down, she flew in through the archway and settled neatly on the back of Harry's chair. Snape, who was seated across the table, looked at her intently. Harry removed the letters and fed her a piece of bacon.

"May I examine your owl?" Snape asked.

Harry looked up Hedwig. "I don't see why not." He held up his arm for the bird to step on, then passed her across the table, transferring her easily to Snape's outstretched arm. The bird ruffled her feathers at the man but subsided quickly when Harry said, "It's okay, Hedwig. Professor Snape is a friend now."

"Remarkable!" Snape exclaimed. "She understands everything you say?"

Harry shrugged. "She seems to." He fed her another piece of bacon as he began tearing open his letters.

Snape muttered a bit over the owl as Harry read Ron's note.

_Harry,_

_Sorry to hear about your Aunt, I suppose. Though I'm not really sure what to say. I know that your relatives were horrible, but they were your relatives._

_I hope where ever you are now is better._

_Hey, I just got a letter from Hermione asking if I'd started on my homework yet. You didn't say anything to her did you?_

_-Ron_

Harry grinned. He'd asked Hermione about the Potions essay, to see if she had any advice. Obviously she'd taken that to mean that Harry was well into his homework and begun nagging Ron. That was good, though. They both needed nagging occasionally.

Harry Moved on to Hermione's letter next.

_Harry,_

_Sorry to hear about your Aunt and Uncle, that must have been horrible! I saw a bit in the Prophet about your aunt dying, I've included the article. It seemed Rita Skeeter simply didn't have anything to say on the matter. A Junior Correspondent wrote it._

Hermione went on to list several things that he should make sure to include in his essay as well as a list of reference materials that he would find helpful. He found the article pasted to the back of the letter.

"_Harry Potter Orphaned Again_

_It seems that tragedy has once again hit young Harry Potter's life. He has been, yet again, orphaned._

_After his parent's murder at the hands of You-Know-Who, little Harry Potter was placed in the care of his muggle Aunt and Uncle. It is not known exactly what occurred at the Dursley residence more than a week ago, but Petunia Dursley (Lily Potter's only sister) is dead and her husband is currently in a muggle prison; accused of her murder._

_The boy-who-lived has been unavailable for questioning or comment. Young Potter was apparently injured at the same time as his Aunt's murder and is now in hiding and, in the words of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, "recovering nicely in the care of friends and loved ones."_

_Some speculation has occurred about a third party that may have been involved in this horrible crime but so far there is no evidence that is the case."_

Harry snickered at the article.

He was glad to see that Rita Skeeter was keeping her word, at least, she was while under Hermione's threats. Harry passed the article across the table to his father without thinking about it.

Last was Neville's letter. Unlike his other friends, Neville already knew about his aunt. Neville, actually, knew a great deal more.

_Harry,_

_How are things going on? Were you right about them getting better? I really hope you were, you deserve to have something nice in your life._

_My gran is doing much better already. Your owl found me as I was packing up my things to leave with my uncle, he's waiting while I write this, so I'll have to be brief. _

_Feel free to write me if you need anything, Harry. I don't know how much I can do (You seem to have really BIG problems) but I'm always ready to listen if you just need an ear._

_Take care,_

_Neville Long bottom_

Harry smiled at the offer of a willing ear and set Neville's letter with Ron's. Snape was frowning at the article, though Harry thought it really didn't bear that much consideration.

"What's wrong?"

Snape looked up at him. "There's something wrong with this article. I can't put my finger on it, but it's far different from your usual press."

"That's because it isn't accusing me of killing my aunt or being deranged or something. It also isn't going on about my love life (or lack thereof) and it isn't insulting anyone I know. It's making no accusations or assumption whatsoever."

The older man caught Harry's smug tone.

"Why do I think you have something you're hiding?"

"Oh, I'm not hiding it. Rita Skeeter is on a shorter leash now and I'm glad to finally have some say over what is written about me. Or rather, a good friend of mine has some say."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "It sounds as if there is a story there."

"Uh huh," Harry said.

"I don't suppose you're going to share?"

"Huh uh," Harry said.

"May I ask why not?"

"Because that would be telling and part of the agreement is that my friend and I won't tell," Harry's triumphant smirk did not fade. "I always keep my end of an agreement."

Silence fell while Snape worked out what this meant. When understanding dawned, he moaned, "Please tell me you are not blackmailing Rita Skeeter."

"I'm not blackmailing Rita Skeeter," Harry repeated dutifully.

"Potter!"

Harry's doe-eyed innocent look returned, but this time it was coloured with indignation. "I'm not! One of my friends is blackmailing Rita Skeeter. Don't worry, my friend wouldn't even be able to if Skeeter wasn't doing something illegal to start with."

Snape sighed and rubbed the bridge of his long nose with one hand. "Well, that's Gryffindor logic if I ever heard it."

The indignation was back. "Hey, how do you know my friend is even a Gryffindor? I rather thought the whole situation was handled in a very clever manner and that's a Ravenclaw trait. Not to mention the blackmail itself, which is most definitely Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "Though, come to think of it, I know of at least three Gryffindors who have at least _attempted_ to blackmail someone in a position of authourity. I wonder if this whole house system isn't flawed?"

"I believe the house system was originally designed, not to segregate based on abilities and traits, but rather to put students with a teacher and classmates who would understand them best. And you are changing the subject."

"I am not. That was a natural conversation turn as the old topic was exhausted."

Snape glared.

Harry held his ground, however. "Look, I'm not going to tell you anymore about Rita Skeeter. It would get several people I care about into trouble they don't need. They are only trying to protect me."

The glare lessened and Snape deliberately looked away. He was too annoyed to keep this from turning into an all-out shouting match and possibly a duel and that was _not_ what he wanted.

"The house system is not flawed, though I think that hat has a few stitches loose if you ask me."

The determined look on Harry's face faded to disbelief, and then into a smile. "Oh there is definitely no doubt about that one. Would you believe it tried to put me in Slytherin? Nearly scared me back onto the train."

Snape snorted into his juice. "It what!"

Harry grinned outright. "Yep, it kept telling me what I could do in Slytherin house. 'You could be great, you know,'" he quoted. "But if I hadn't already been convinced I wasn't Slytherin material, seeing Draco Malfoy sorted there was enough for me. I definitely did not want to share a dormitory with him."

"You were sorted into Gryffindor because you didn't like Draco Malfoy..." Snape said very slowly, with a strange look on his face. It was only a moment before he burst out laughing.

"What?" Harry asked, fighting laughter himself. When worded that way, it did seem rather funny.

Snape just shook his head and laughed, covering his eyes with one hand.

"Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding world would have been a Slytherin if not for Draco Malfoy."

Harry finally joined him in laughter. The man's face was totally different when he was smiling and his laughter had the contagious quality that occurred every so often. Harry thought that it was probably lucky that he didn't laugh more often, nobody would get anything done in his classes. Though they would probably be more enjoyable.

The laughter trickled off into comfortable silence, that was broken now and then by quiet snickers. After a time, Snape broke the silence.

"I spoke with the headmaster last night."

Harry looked up, but said nothing. Fear gripped him, wondering what the Headmaster would think of them being father and son. Would he try to keep them apart? Everyone knew they hated each other...

Snape seemed to realize what Harry was thinking. "Don't worry, I didn't tell him about... about us. I merely requested that he arrange for your friends to visit in a few days." Snape scowled. "He seemed inordinately pleased that I would ask such a thing and promised it would be done."

Harry, however, was not nearly as pleased as he had thought the boy would be. The boy was breathing heavily and his eyes were pressed tightly closed.

"What's the matter?"

He shook his head. "I'm not ready to face them. I'm not... I'm not ready to tell them yet. They'll never speak to me again, I just know it. I'm going to have to choose between you and them."

The older wizard was shocked. He hadn't realized that Harry was quite that attached to him. Sure, they had formed a friendship of sorts, but that wasn't quite the same as what the boy was implying. Obviously Harry, at least, wanted this friendship to be more, to be stronger.

Severus realized he should say something comforting, but he wasn't sure what that would be.

"I won't make you choose between us, Harry."

The boy looked up. "They will, though. They don't like you."

"And do you 'like' me?" Snape asked, honest curiosity in his eyes.

That made the boy pause. "I don't know. But..." He swallowed. "I want to."

Snape nodded slowly but said nothing.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo 

In the end, it was decided that Harry's friends would come and Snape would avoid them. They would only be here a few hours, so it wouldn't be terribly difficult. He spent most afternoons locked away in his laboratory anyway.

Still, Harry felt terribly guilty. He hated people lying and hiding things from him and that was what he was doing to his friends. Not to mention putting his father out of his own home.

Snape was secretly relieved. He knew it was childish, but he was in no greater hurry to share this secret with anyone then Harry was.

Part of it was the obvious. He was an ex-Death Eater and the boy was Harry Potter. There would be whispers and rumours. He would be accosted left and right. And that wasn't even considering what being a father would do to his reputation. His students would never respect him again.

But also, if he were entirely honest with himself, he was worried about what would happen to their relationship if they were forced out into public. They weren't even sure how they felt about each other yet. There was no way they could survive the outside world.

Harry wrote to Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Fred and George and four days later, on July 31st, they all appeared in Snape's drawing room with Professor Dumbledore.

"Harry!" Hermione and Ginny cried out in unison upon seeing Harry waiting by the door. They both ran over and hugged him tightly.

He was completely buried in hair and arms, which was fine for a moment. Finally, he was forced to say, "Uh, guys, air would be nice."

Both girls let go with muttered apologies and, not to be outdone, Fred and George gave him the same treatment. When they let go, laughing, Harry looked around and finally spotted Ron.

"I am not hugging you, mate," Ron said. Neville nodded his agreement and everyone laughed and even Professor Dumbledore smiled.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I don't suppose you could tell me where Professor Snape is? I must speak with him."

Harry nodded. "He said he would be in his laboratory most of the day. Do you know where it is or should I take you?"

"Thank you Harry. As I have not been here before, a guide would be most appreciated."

Harry nodded. "This way, then."

He led the headmaster out of the drawing room and down the hall to the closed laboratory door. Unthinking, Harry opened the door and leaned in.

"Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore is here for you."

"Thank you." Snape called as Harry ducked back out, gesturing toward the open door.

Dumbledore went inside and closed the heavy door and Harry turned to his friends.

"What?" he asked upon seeing their open-mouthed stares.

"You're staying with Snape?" Ron asked, finally.

Harry laughed. "The looks on you guys faces!" He turned and led them toward the stairs at the end of the hall, still talking. "Yes, I'm staying with Professor Snape. But this place is huge, I hardly ever see him. Just once in the morning and once in the evening," 'and in the afternoons when you work together or when you ask him for help with your homework,' Harry finished silently.

Harry led them all up the stairs and into his room, which was slightly less bare, but far too large for him to fill with his few muggle-safe belongings.

His friends gaped at the room, which was quite impressive when one thought about it. Harry plopped onto his bed while his friends walked around, eventually following him.

"So, what's going on? Why are you staying with Snape? What's been happening the last couple weeks? Why are you staying with Snape?" Ron began. Harry cut him off when it looked like he would continue in this theme for a while.

"Really, guys, it's nothing. Well, it's a lot of things, but nothing horrible. After my Aunt died, the blood protections my mother set up went all wonky. Snape has been studying them for Dumbledore for a long time and he knows the most about them. So I have to stick around and see Snape twice a day so he ca make sure I don't die or anything when the wards fail."

"D- Die?" Hermione stuttered.

"It's an exaggeration, Hermione."

"Well," Fred said. "We can see this..."

"Is a prime opportunity!" George continued.

Each pulled a small box out of their pocket and tapped them once with their wands. The matching boxes were covered in mini-explosions of fireworks, moving of course.

"Here you go, Harry," Fred said.

"These are the finest, newest," George was cut off by his brother.

"And mostly tested, don't forget that part."

"Too right! And mostly test products Wesley Wizarding Wheezes has to offer!"

The passed the boxes to Harry, who didn't hesitate to lift the lids. A shower of confetti flew out, covering the bed and most of the rest of the room. A few mini-fireworks flew about the room before tapering out.

"That was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. Everyone else agreed quickly.

Harry was peering into the boxes as Fred and George explained.

"We're not marketing that effect just yet. It' s rather expensive and we have to wrap the boxes ourselves."

"But we're working on it!"

Inside the gifts were prank tools of every shape and size. Dungbombs that could be directed so that only a single person (or small group) could smell them. Multiple sets of skivving snack boxes, fog bombs (in multiple colours) fake wands in multiple styles, Canary cremes, and a dozen other prank snacks.

"These are great!" Harry exclaimed.

"And you've the perfect target handy," Ron chimed in while Hermione and Ginny offered the boys weak glares.

Neville was silent, for which Harry was grateful.

"No, guys, no pranking Snape."

Ron and the twins stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head. Harry sighed ans stood up. After checking the hall and closing the door, he sat back down.

"Look, Professor Snape would kill me if he knew I told you guys this, so you can't let anyone know, alright?"

Everyone nodded, the twins leaning forward, eager to hear what they hoped would be a juicy secret.

"James Potter and Severus Snape were horrible to each other in school. Ja- er, My father and Sirius took every opportunity to prank Snape and they were downright vicious about it. They were awful to him."

Fred and George high-fived each other and Harry glared at them. "This isn't funny. My dad was a horrible bully and his friends weren't any better."

Fred, George, and Ron all looked sheepish. "I don't want to be like that. I figure, eventually, someone's got to say, 'alright, this has gone on long enough.' So that's what I'm doing."

"Good for you!" Hermione said.

Harry nodded, feeling relieved. His friends agreed with him and he hadn't had to tell the big secret, just the little one. Everyone sat in silence for a moment, then Ginny jumped up.

"Oh, hey, why are we all just sitting here? Mum sent cake!" She pulled a tiny wooden box out her pocket. "Where's the kitchen? I want to set it down before Fred and George un-shrink it."

Harry jumped up and led the way back to the dining room.

The box turned out to be huge and it held not only a cake, but an entire three course dinner as well as more sweets than Harry had seen anywhere but Honeydukes.

After everyone had eaten and they were feeling kinda drowsy, Harry said, "Anyone up for a game of chess?"

"Hang on!" Hermione protested. "You haven't opened our gifts yet."

"Oh!" said Harry. It honestly hadn't occurred to him there were more gifts. Presents were pulled from pockets and un-shrunk by Fred and George. Hermione and Ron had gotten together to get him a wand-holster and a very thick book on duelling techniques. Neville had brought a self-watering pot with a miniature garden.

"It'll never outgrow the container it's in, so you can plant it in a garden outside, or a window box in the house. I thought it would be neat until you get out of school.

Ginny had gotten him a journal. A plain, leather-bound, muggle journal.

"I had mum take me to muggle London to get it. I've always kept a journal, but recently I like the muggle ones better."

Hermione frowned. "What's so special about a Muggle journal? I would think an enchanted one would be so much more interesting..." She then clamped her hand over her mouth, an expression of absolute horror on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot!"

Ginny grinned, though. "You're forgiven, Hermione. You did spend most of that year petrified. The thing is, there's absolutely nothing special about it, that's what makes it great. You can write in it for hours and it doesn't talk back, it doesn't try to keep you company, it doesn't judge you... and you can put a privacy spell on it so it can't tell your secrets no matter what. It's a perfect friend, sometimes."

Harry rather thought she had a point and gave her a quick hug. "Thanks, Ginny."

She blushed and ducked away, muttering, "You're welcome."

"So... Neville said, breaking the silence. "What else is there to see around here?"

Harry thought for a moment. "You want to see something cool?"

They nodded and he pulled them out of the room and up the stairs again. "This is my favourite room in the whole house..."

He took them to the far end of the upstairs hall and led them to the spiral staircase.

The sight of the glass room brought a chorus of ooh's and ahh's from his friends, who tore down the steps for a closer look. Ginny hung back.

"You're the one who is backing the twins, aren't you?"

Harry was startled. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play innocent with me! That may have worked a few years ago, but I know you better than that. The twins have been going on all summer about how they can't stop the business because it would make their investor unhappy. I think they just do it to annoy mum, but they obviously got the money from somewhere and you are the only person they know with that much money."

Harry gulped audibly. "Don't tell your mum, I don't want her angry with me..."

Ginny laughed. "You are probably the only person in the world that could get away with it, Harry. But I won't tell her."

Harry nodded, grateful.

"Actually, I think they are going to be quite a success. Their stuff is brilliant, really. Or at least, it was once they realized it all had to be on timers, they couldn't just last forever."

Harry laughed.

Suddenly, the room got very quiet as a man appeared in the middle of the garden, though he obviously didn't apparate in.

"Well, what's all this, then?" he said, scratching his short beard. The man was neither young, nor old, though he had a great deal of grey in his hair. He was rather heavy-set, and exceptionally tall, though not nearly as big as Hagrid. "I 'avent' seen kids in this 'ouse in... At leas' fifteen years!"

He looked around at everyone who had frozen in place. Finally, he said, "I s'pose one of you is Mr. Evans?"

"Me, sir," Harry said to keep one of his friends from saying something wrong. "I'm sorry, if we're in your way we can go. I just wanted to show my friends the garden."

"No, no! You all 'ave a good time. You're not botherin' me. I'm just checkin' the equipment."

"Equipment, sir?" Harry asked.

The man chuckled. "I see we need an introduction! My name is Randolf Harrison. I'm the only person on this continent who is capable of maintaining the instruments that run this greenhouse. My grandfather designed it."

"Oh," Harry said thoughtfully. "Instruments?"

Randolf laughed again. "Yes, instruments! What d'ja think, it was all run by magic? No, boy, let me show you."

He walked over to the nearest raised bed and reached down to the wall around it, sliding open a panel. "See here? The moisture sensors under the ground tell when the soil is getting too dry and turn on the irrigation system." He crossed to a wall. "And here, the temperature sensors tell when it's too hot or cool and open the windows or turn up the boiler accordingly. It's all automatic and not a drop of electricity used."

He said that last rather smugly and Harry smiled. The man's rather heavy accent disappeared when he was discussing his equipment and Harry wondered if it wasn't put on to start with.

"You said your grandfather designed it?"

"Yes, sir. My grandfather was commissioned by the late Gerald Romaine to build this room when his wife, Emmaline Romaine became ill. I believe these two were the current Mr. Romaine's grandparents."

He paused and looked around. "I don't suppose Mr. Romaine is around, is he?" Randolf asked nervously.

Harry smiled. "No, sir. He's, er, working on his novel today. He's hiding in his study."

Ron was edging closer and the twins had dropped to the ground and were sitting cross legged, listening. The girls were both paying rapt attention, as well. Neville was the only one not focussed on the story.

"Good, Mr. Romaine, he don't like people telling stories about his family."

"I know," Harry admitted. "I won't tell him if you don't."

Randolf nodded and continued. "Well, Emmaline got real sick, couldn't handle sunlight on her skin but she loved growing things so much. So Gerald commissioned this room to be built with shutters that could be pulled closed when Emmaline wanted to garden or just be around the plants and greenery."

He looked around sadly. "The shutters are gone now, once Emmaline died they weren't worth maintaining. There used to be a manual lift where the stairs are now. Poor Emmaline wasn't up to stairs in her later years but the lift wasn't terribly practical. It took two people to move it."

"This is brilliant!" Neville exclaimed, standing up from his examination of the mechanism. "Its all springs and pulleys!"

Randolf nodded. "Know something about mechanics do you, boy?"

Neville shook his head. "No, I know something about greenhouses. My gran's has a pulley system for opening all the windows at once, but someone has to pull it." Neville pulled open the panel Randolf had opened earlier. "You said it has moisture sensors, too?"

Randolf nodded again, and, with a huge grin on his face, began explaining how the system worked.

Harry pulled the rest of is friends aside. "Great job guys! I didn't know he'd be here, or I'd have warned you. Snape has really got to start telling me when he expects muggles to visit!"

"Don't you mean Mr. Romaine?" Fred asked with a giggle.

Harry glared. "Do you really want to start making fun of his family? I would think you would know what that feels like."

Fred fell silent.

"Now, let's all pretend to be muggles and I'll fill you in on the parts you missed later."

Randolf was in heaven, apparently glad to have someone interested in his delicate work. Neville helped him finish his adjustments and he stood.

"Well, I have to say boy,"

"My name's Neville, sir."

"Well, Neville, you certainly have a knack for this sort of thing. Look me up when you get out of school and you'll have an apprenticeship waiting for you. I know it's an outdated practice, but it's the way I learned..."

"That would be wonderful! Of course, I can't commit to anything now..." Neville said, obviously pleased with the praise."

"'Course not! But in a couple years..." Randolf turned toward Harry. "Well, Mr. Evans, if you would be so kind as to give Mr. Romaine my regards?"

Harry nodded and the man disappeared toward the stairs.

"So, what was the rest of that story, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Already regretting his promise to pass on the parts they missed, filled in about Snape's maternal grandmother being the first witch on that side of his family.

"Emmaline must have been his witch grandmother. I'd bet money the lift and the sun shades required magic and that's why they were gotten rid of after she died."

"Harry," George queried in an odd voice. "How do you know all this?"

"I asked," Harry replied simply.

His friends exchanged looks and Fred looked ready to ask further questions, but Harry started for the stairs. "C'mon, we've got just enough time for another piece of birthday cake before you have to go."

"Do you think the headmaster stayed all this time?"

Harry shrugged. "If he did, I'll bet they are talking about me," he said in a slightly put-out tone.

Harry was only partially right. Professor Dumbledore was fighting a losing battle with his curiosity where his two favourite students were concerned. He'd been glad to see them cooperating earlier in the summer, but Snape's request to take the boy into hiding at his family estate had nearly given him a heart attack. And now the professor had personally requested Harry's friends be allowed to visit for the boy's birthday.

He knew Harry and Severus were not on pleasant speaking terms. As far as he knew, the truce they'd started after the third task was the first civil moment the two had ever shared.

No one was sure where this feud between he two had started. He'd discussed it with several people close to both, but had not found the key. Harry had always been mistrustful of Severus, ever since the first time he'd seen the Professor to hear some tell. And, of course, Severus had that old feud with Harry's father to contend with...

The catalyst didn't seem to be there, however. He could not find a single reason for them to have become so combative toward each-other.

And now, seemingly, just a suddenly as this had started, they seemed to have ended it. All without a single word to him.

This was what bothered the old Headmaster. There was something happening between Harry Potter and Severus Snape, something big, and he had no inkling of it. He'd thought that they both trusted him.

"Ah, how are you today, Severus?"

"I am well if one can ignore the swarm of teenagers that have invaded my home," he said with a sigh, finally looking up from his work.

"If I recall, Severus, they are all here at your request." Dumbldore's eyes twinkled, though he didn't really feel it.

The younger professor sighed heavily as a flitter of laughter sounded outside the heavy door. Footsteps pounded as seven children headed toward the kitchen. "An idea I have regretted almost from the moment I received your approval."

Dumbledore thought he heard pain, rather than annoyance, in the younger man's voice.

"What is troubling you, my boy?"

Severus shook his head and paced the room for a moment before retrieving his notes from his desk.

"Potter's protective shields are practically gone. The more complicated under-layer of Lily's magic is fading much more slowly as it was apparently put together with more care. I'm guessing the outer protection layer was not added until the Potters went into hiding. This underlay was definitely started before that."

Dumbledore frowned. "And what does this layer seem to include?"

Snape shook his head helplessly. "I've identified everything from minor healing charms to appearance altering charms. There is protective magic there, as well and a hundred other things that I couldn't identify if I had Lily sitting here pointing them out to me."

The headmaster was stunned. "Lily, Lily, what did you do?" he muttered to himself. "And what made you feel you needed to do it?"

Severus cleared his throat. "I have made Potter aware of the ramifications of this information. I must say, he is rather worried about the appearance altering charms."

"I have to say, that is most perplexing," Dumbledore agreed. "Still, I'm sure we will discover what the motivation was with time."

Snape sighed inwardly with relief. The headmaster was dismissing this as inconsequential. They had a prayer of keeping this secret after all.

"Was there anything else, headmaster?"

The older man seemed to shake himself and came back to the conversation. It took some effort for severus to avoid all the older man's inquiries, discreet as they were, into his and Harry's relationship.

It was really annoying Severus that the older man would not leave the topic alone and he was near the point of flat out telling him to 'bugger off,' when a soft chime suddenly sounded from the older man's robes.

"Oh, dear me, it's time to collect everyone and leave. How the time flies when one is engaged in interesting conversation."

He swept from the room before Severus could protest and the younger professor found himself following him.

They found the children in the dining room, obviously finishing off a rather large cake.

The room was eerily silent as they approached, only Ginny and Hermione conversing. Everyone else was simply looking at Harry, who either hadn't noticed or was forcibly ignoring them as he carefully studied what appeared to be a small planter.

Correction, everyone was studying him, except Neville Longbottom, whom Severus had been surprised to see invited. Longbottom wasn't usually in Potter's close circle.

The timid boy was fishing in his pockets for something. He seemed to find it and passed Harry a folded sheet of parchment. Harry seemed delighted and unfolded it to reveal instructions of some sort.

"Come, our portkey leaves in five minutes!" Dumbledore called into the room, making most of it's inhabitants jump slightly and breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Already?" Ginny Weasley asked, though most everyone seemed relieved at the interruption.

The Headmaster nodded and everyone stood slowly. Severus watched as Hermione rounded the table and enfolded Harry in a huge hug. The boy tensed slightly at the contact but returned the gesture hesitantly. Ginny Wesley gave him the same treatment which Harry reacted to slightly more favourably for having a warning. The Wesley twins seemed ready to do the same, mischievous grins on their faces, when Harry spotted him.

"Professor Snape!" he said, his tone almost grateful.

The room turned as one and Harry ushered them towards the door. "You really should be going..."

"Yes, yes, a portkey waits for no one," Dumbledore said merrily. They gathered at the end of the table and he held out a sheet of parchment. "We have, precisely," he checked a rather garish pocket watch, "sixty-seven seconds."

Everyone reached for the parchment and Harry said, "Thank you for coming, everyone!"

A chorus of, "Take care Harry!" and "Happy Birthday Mate!" sounded through the room, then the entire group disappeared.

The moment they had gone, Harry's relief became as palpable as the tension had been earlier. The boy sighed and dropped his shoulders heavily.

"I think I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning," Harry said. His eyes were blank and he seemed exhausted.

Snape just nodded as Harry left the room rapidly. It was still very early in the evening, so he returned to his lab to get some more work done.


End file.
